Leave the City of Your Comfort
by Angst Is My Middle Name
Summary: "You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. What you'll discover will be wonderful. What you'll discover is yourself." -Alan Alda. In which Mike Stoker throws out his back, takes sick leave for the first time in over ten years, and figures himself out in the process. Please read notes. Bonus chapter added.
1. Walls

**_I think I'm exploring a new avenue here with an asexual!Mike Stoker. As someone who identifies as asexual, it's never easy to find fics that explore that particular sexuality. We just don't hear that much from him on the show and know very little about the character, so it made sense to me to think he might be the one to write as ace._**

**_Now, asexuality wasn't really described as its own sexuality until very recently, but there have always been people who lacked feelings of sexual attraction. I've seen fic interpreting various characters as straight, bi, and gay, so I thought having one of the guys be ace might be fun to explore. All asexuality is is a lack of sexual attraction, though there are romantic orientations and levels of desire for sexual intercourse/sex-repulsion that can be explored. Please PM me for more info._**

**_This fic does reference the events of 'Somebody to Lean On' posted on AO3 and is a sequel to that. Cross-posted here from AO3._**

**_Update: Well, I didn't think I needed to do this because we are all rational human beings, but I guess I need to add a disclaimer now. When writing, I am writing about Mike Stoker THE CHARACTER, not the actor. Some people apparently do not have the capacity to understand that actors are not analogous to their characters, so there you are. (For more information on this issue, please see my tumblr post at dying-thorin-noises, post/105776703030/oh-fanfiction-net-readers-you-were-being-so-good.)_**

**_Update 2: Wow, I really did not expect this kind of controversy with this one. I LOVE it when writers use their own experiences to add something to fics. It makes them more relatable, more fun to read. There's just something there that comes from a person's experiences that makes a fic unique. Anyone can jot out a 5+1 or a oneshot or a songfic, but when a writer writes from experience, then that story becomes unique. Now, there wasn't really any room in the initial summary to mention asexuality, so I was sure to mention it in these notes here. I don't want people to feel attacked or unreasonably uncomfortable when reading this. I want them to enjoy reading it as much I enjoyed writing it. Honestly, fanfic was where I first discovered asexuality and felt a deep connection to it, so if I can write something to help other people maybe make that same connection or find some understanding, then I'll be pretty happy. Now that I've had to ramble on for much longer than I would like, thank you for your time, and please enjoy this story._**

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><p><em>Friends are like walls. <em>

_Sometimes you lean on them, and sometimes it's good just knowing they are there._ ~Author Unknown

Mike was in the middle of a particularly good article in _Fire Engineering_ on pump system innovations when the tones went off at about 1600: structure fire. Only the standard three trucks were called, so Mike knew it wasn't big, but house fires were always a bit rough. That was a person's life, several people's lives, going up in flames and smoke. The homeowners, even when there wasn't a living thing left in that house, were always yelling their heads off, and trying to go back inside for one thing or another. Mike was glad he could stand at his pump panel and mind his own business. He was never particularly good at dealing with civilians, anyway.

He was first into the engine, quickly pulling on his turnout and climbing into the driver's seat with practiced ease. Cap navigated them through a residential maze to a fully involved two-story, pulling in just behind the squad. The other engines pulled up not long after, and the captains got their men working in concert, relieved to know there was no one inside. The fire was brought under control and extinguished in fairly short order for a fully involved, and Mike was beginning to appreciate the relative calm of the scene when the family rolled up in their wagon, wailing about their house.

Now, Mike Stoker was not cold-hearted, not by a long shot. He felt for these people, was saddened to know their home was essentially gone, that countless memories were lost to the flames. He just wasn't very good at dealing with them on what was probably the worst day of their lives. He could speak with them if it came down to it, obviously, or he wouldn't have made a very good fireman, but given his druthers, he'd rather let someone else do it, preferably Cap, Gage, or DeSoto.

"Stoker, when you're done here, would you go in and help with overhaul?" Cap told him, "I'm not sure what we've got left in there, but the more hands on deck, the faster we'll go. I know we're all anxious to get back to Marco's chili."

"Sure thing, Cap."

That was his go-to response. _Might as well call me 'Sure-Thing Stoker.' Fits right in with 'Silent Stoker,' I should think._ He finished up at the pump and headed for the burnt out house as he'd been bid by his captain, pulling on a pair of thick work gloves as he went. Chet was on the first floor, digging through the burnt debris, so Mike joined him in seeking out any remaining hotspots under the debris, as Chet had already checked the walls. The lineman was now moving the debris with relative ease, flipping stuff over to make sure no more embers were smoldering beneath. They didn't want to get called back, after all.

"Stoker, you wanna help me over here? Pretty heavy, whatever it is," Chet spoke up.

"Looks like… maybe it's part of the fireplace."

"Helluva part then. It's huge."

Mike didn't reply, instead lining up beside Chet. They both bent to grip the piece of debris, and on Chet's count of three, they lifted.

Pain shot through Mike's lower back. His knees buckled, sending him pitching to the floor. He wasn't even able to make a sound, his mouth open in a silent yell, the shock of the pain ripping his breath from him. Chet, thankfully, was on the H/T in an instant, shouting for Gage or DeSoto. A rushing sound filled Mike's ears, and his vision started to grey at the edges. He was only dimly aware of someone else arriving, only dimly aware of Chet speaking to them, of being taken outside, of someone carefully removing his helmet and turnout. Someone was taking his vitals and relaying them to Rampart; he thought it was Gage. Whoever was treating him turned him on his side, prodding at his lower back. The added pain set his stomach rolling. Mike tried to choke down the bile rising up in his throat, but when a particularly sensitive spot was touched, he promptly vomited onto the grass.

"What happened?"

_That's Cap._ His voice was tense, hurried, borderline demanding. _He's worried._

"I think he tore a back muscle pretty bad in there doing overhaul-"

"It's my fault, Cap, I'm sorry, I-"

"It's nobody's fault, Kelly," Cap butted in, as Mike convulsed, the muscles of his back spasming violently, "It's part of the job… not that it makes it any easier."

A low groan escaped Mike's lips.

"The ambulance is almost here," Gage told him soothingly, "Just hang in there, Mike. You're gonna be alright. Just stay with me now. Here, I need you to breathe, huh? Don't hold your breath, Mike, you know better than that. Come on now, buddy, breathe. Just breathe. Nice and slow…"

Another spasm ripped across his back, and he was almost ashamed of the whine it pulled from him. He felt a hand pressing against his palm, just as rough and calloused as his own, and gripped it as tight as he could, squeezing so hard he worried he would break it. It made the pain slightly more bearable somehow. He tried to breathe like Gage told him.

"Good job, Mike. Just keep breathing, just like that. Keep squeezin' Chet's hand there, too. You won't break it. He's tougher'n he looks. The ambulance is almost- wait, there it is."

Gage had to coax Mike into letting go of Chet's hand, replacing it with his own. Mike focused on it, mildly surprised to find it was just as rough as Chet's. _I didn't expect that somehow. His hands always seemed like they would be softer. Not because he doesn't work hard but because he's always so gentle with his patients._ Mike was in the ambulance before he even realized it, pain still clouding his mind. It burned through his lower back, another spasm rippling over it. His fingers clenched around Gage's a bit tighter; Gage squeezed back.

"I think you were right, Gage," Dr. Morton said at Rampart, "Looks like a torn muscle in the lumbar region. Just rest here a moment, Mr. Stoker. I'm gonna give you a mild muscle relaxant to stop those spasms, as well as a mild painkiller, okay?"

"Sounds good, doc," Mike ground out.

_So this is new…_ Mike had visited the hospital a number of times to see Gage or Kelly or another member of the 51 family who'd been wounded on scene, but this was the first time he'd been a patient since his first year as a full fireman. His unerring caution and attention to detail had kept him out of Rampart's beds for nearly ten years. He supposed it was just a matter of time. He couldn't stay out forever, not even as an engineer.

The rest of the crew wandered in after thirty minutes or so, allowing Cap in first, and Mike was thankful the drugs Morton gave him didn't make him loopy.

"How ya feelin', Mike?" Cap asked.

"A little better now, thanks," Mike replied, "Doc Morton put me on some pretty good stuff, so I'm not feelin' too much. Still kinda sore, though."

"And it's gonna be sore for at least a few weeks."

"Who told you that?"

"Experience. Pulled a back muscle myself at a call about six years ago, and lemme tell ya, it wasn't a walk in the park. You'll probably be out for at least three weeks, depending on how bad you wrenched it."

Mike blinked up at Cap, feeling his eyes go wide. Cap gave him a reassuring smile, saying, "It could always be less than that, but it seems to me you pulled that but good. You'll be out for a few weeks, but you'll be able to have that vacation I'm always bothering you to take. Y'know, I think this is the first time I've seen you here as a patient, Mike."

"It is," he grumbled.

"You'll be alright. Just rest and do what the doctor tells you, and we'll have you back on the pumps in no time. Like I said, could be less than a few weeks."

Mike nodded glumly, still lying on his stomach on the hard table. Cap reached down and squeezed his shoulder.

"You'll be alright," Cap repeated, softer this time, "I know it. Now, I've gotta go call Ginny and the girls and let them know you're alright. The guys all wanna come in and see ya."

Cap gave his shoulder another gentle squeeze and headed out, letting the other four in.

xXxXx

Chet fell back slightly when everyone went in to see Mike, letting John and Roy go first, then Marco. Guilt hung over him like a heavy cloud. He knew there was no reason for it, no possible way he was responsible for Mike's injury, but he couldn't force himself to believe it. The others surely noticed how quiet he was, that he had no jokes or smart remarks for Mike's first known trip to Rampart. _His injury's not even that serious! Why am I so uptight about this? He didn't even bleed… which is good 'cause he probably woulda thrown up some more. He hates blood._ Chet watched as the others tried to make Mike feel better and left one by one, leaving Chet alone with him before he realized they were doing it. He scuffed the toes of his boots on the tile.

"It's not your fault."

"What?"

"Me hurting my back. It's not your fault, Chet."

"I-I know," he mumbled.

"I wanna thank you, actually, for helping me back there, for being there for me. I mean, it's not the worst thing that's ever happened to one of us, and there's probably worse that'll happen in the future, but… but it sure made me feel better to know you were there… so… so thanks, Chet. I really appreciate it."

"Well… you're welcome, Mike."

Chet gripped Mike's hand in a friendly shake.

"So, where ya gonna go when they set you free?" he asked the engineer.

Mike looked like he wanted to shrug but couldn't. He replied, "Home, I guess. I don't wanna put anybody out or have 'em make a big fuss over me."

"But… but your back… you can hardly move… and you live alone."

"Everyone at 51s knows I live alone."

"Don't you think there should be someone there with you, to make sure you don't hurt yourself more? Or that you should stay with someone for at least a few days?"

Mike looked like he wanted shrug again, and said, "I dunno. I mean, I take care of myself alright. Always have."

"But not when you're hurt. None of us have ever seen you as a patient here. Shit, we've never even known you to call out sick, so you've never had to ask for help like this before. I'm… I'm just sayin' that-that you should know you can ask us for help."

That was what everyone told him over a year ago, just after Charlie and John had been attacked, so he figured it was only fair to return the favor, especially to Mike. _Mike's done so much for me and Charlie in the past, I think it's the least I could do._ Chet went on, "I could call Charlie to stay with you a few days. She's off today and tomorrow, and she was just tellin' me the other day about one of the guys she works with wanting a little OT. Got his first kid on the way, I think she said. So he'd probably be willing to pick up a few of her shifts for a while."

"I couldn't ask her to do that. She needs the money."

"Not as bad as the guy with a kid on the way," Chet replied, "Besides, Charlie lives with me and splits the rent, so missing a week or two won't be a big deal."

Mike lifted an eyebrow at him from his prostrate position.

"I'll call her and ask. I just… well… I'd feel better if I knew you weren't alone, if I at least asked her to do it."

Mike's skeptical expression shifted to one Chet couldn't quite read. Heat crept into his face, so he beat a hasty retreat out to the phone, where Cap told him to keep it short.

"_Hello. Charlotte Kelly."_

"Hey sis, it's Chet. I'm calling from Rampart. Everything's fine."

"_Then why are you calling from Rampart?"_

"Well, I mean, no one's seriously injured."

"_Is someone mildly injured, _Chester_?"_

"Ooh, the full first name. That's scary."

"_Chester Buchanan Kelly-!"_

"Okay okay okay! It's Mike. He pulled his back real bad at a scene, and he's gonna be laid up for a bit. Doc's got him on a mild muscle relaxant and pain killer, so he's good for now, but-"

"_-but you want me to stay with him for a bit while he heals up,"_ she finished.

"Only if you want to. If you don't want to, he'll probably end up over at Cap's place. I just remembered you talkin' the other day about Ramirez wanting some OT, so I thought you might be able to do it."

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line, followed by, _"I can't believe I'm letting you guilt me into this. Look, I'm not a nursemaid. What can I do for Mike? He's lived alone for years."_

"We just want someone there to make sure he doesn't aggravate his injury or go stir-crazy or nothin'. He's never been hurt for as long as he's been at 51s, so we're just worried about him. We wanna be sure he's gonna be alright."

Another sigh. Chet waited impatiently, until, _"Alright, alright… I'll do it… for Mike. Only because it's Mike and because I like him. I suppose I'll need to retrieve him from the hospital?"_

"I'll make sure he calls you and not a cab, Charlie. I ever tell you you're the best?"

"_You could say it more often."_

"You're the best, sis."

"_Yeah, I know."_

"Hey, I'm serious, Charlie. Thanks for this."

"_You're very welcome. I'll wait by the phone."_

xXxXx

A few hours passed before Morton released Mike from the hospital with a prescription for a mild painkiller. Mike had briefly considered simply calling a cab to come fetch him, but he had a feeling Chet told both Morton and Dixie that he was supposed to call Charlie, so he quickly dismissed the idea. Morton he could deal with, but he certainly didn't want Dixie's wrath coming down on him. He allowed Nurse McCall to help him out the door to where Charlie was waiting, smiling beside her baby blue Impala. She hurried over to greet Dixie, carefully taking hold of Mike's arm. He flushed red, feeling embarrassed and weak at not being able to walk under his own power, at not being control. That was what bothered him most.

Mike was quiet all the way to his apartment building, which was characteristic for him, so Charlie didn't pry. That was one of the reasons he liked Charlie. She never pried, never tried to force him to speak or talk about himself, not like Chet or John. They arrived at his building not long after 2200, Charlie hopping out of her car and hurrying over to help Mike out. The climb up the stairs was borderline tortuous, leaving Mike sweating and his chest heaving. Charlie did her best to soothe him, carefully leading him up the steps and into his apartment. His vision started to grey at the edges again. His stomach was rolling, bile rising up in his throat.

"What's wrong, Mike?" Charlie asked quickly, "You feel like you're gonna be sick?"

He clenched his jaw and nodded. Charlie settled him on the couch and rushed to the bathroom, returning with a small trashcan. _Guess I look as bad as I feel… which is pretty rotten._ Thankfully, the nausea passed after a few minutes and the dizziness after a few more.

"Alright, well, if you're feeling better, I think we oughta get you into bed. Doc Morton said you should rest for a day or two 'cause the tear was so severe, so I'll be staying here for a few days, until he says you're good to be by yourself."

Mike felt everything skid to a stop, and blinked up at Charlie, asking, "What did you say?"

"I'm gonna stay here with you," she repeated, "You're gonna need some help around the house because your back is bad. Plus, you're not used to being home hurt, so I can keep you company, too."

"But… but I only have one bed," Mike explained, "Where are you gonna sleep?"

"You've got a couch," she shrugged.

"I can't let you sleep on the couch. You're a guest. You should take the bed."

"Really? You and Johnny both. I'm sleeping on the couch, and you are going to get a restful night's sleep in your own bed," she told him forcefully, rolling over Mike's protests with, "The only way I'll sleep in that bed is if you're in it too, so just accept that I've won. Besides, Dixie would kill me if I let you sleep on the couch."

Mike thought about arguing some more but knew it would be pointless. He sighed in defeat, saying, "Okay then, well… well, I need a shower, anyway. I didn't get one after we left that fire today, so I need one still."

"A shower? Mike, you can barely stand."

"That's why… why I need your help."

He gazed up at her from the couch, hoping she would understand that he wanted nothing more than to not ask for help. He did not want to need help in the first place. _I need you to know this is a big deal, that I'm trusting you… I need you to know how much I trust you to ask for help with something as simple as a shower._ Her expression was unreadable, a mix of emotions that clouded together in a form Mike couldn't decipher.

A long moment passed between them. Charlie stepped closer, held out her hand, and simply told him, "Just tell me what you need, Mike. Tell me what you need and I'll do it. No judging. I promise."

Something swelled in Mike's chest. It might have been relief. It might have been anxiety. He couldn't be sure.

"Well… well, I guess you can start by helping me into the bathroom."

"As you wish," she smirked.

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><p><em><strong>As usual, please let me know if anything is wrong, and I will do my best to fix it as soon as possible. I love having any concrit you can spare.<strong>_


	2. By The Way

_By the way, _

_I'm wearing the smile you gave me._

~Author Unknown

Charlie felt bad for Mike as she helped him into the bathroom. It was obvious that he didn't want to need help, let alone ask for it, but she was proud of him for doing so… even though he turned bright red when he did. Mike was flushed red from the roots of his hair through to his chest, and he steadfastly refused to look at her when he had to ask for help undressing. Charlie did her best to be clinical about everything, though if truth be told, she was trying not to do too much looking herself. It was already awkward enough just being that close to his privates.

To need help doing something as simple as undressing, something he'd probably been able to do since before the age of five, had to be embarrassing for Mike. _What would Dixie do? She'd probably just put on a brave face and get shit done, so I suppose I can do the same._ Charlie set her mind into work mode, ignoring her close proximity to a very naked Mike Stoker.

"You could do this tomorrow," she quipped.

"I can't. If I sleep without a shower, my sheets'll smell like smoke forever."

"Well, there's this great new invention called a washing machine. It's remarkable. Makes your linens all nice and clean. Can even get rid of the smell of smoke, I bet."

"So you're a comedian now?"

"I am the Phantom's little sister."

"Oh, that sure makes me feel better."

"Just shut up and get in the shower. Water should be warm enough."

She gripped him by the arm to help keep him upright, focusing on the water swirling down the drain. After a few minutes, Mike made a quiet noise, enough to catch Charlie's attention and make her look up. His lips moved, but Charlie heard nothing.

"Could you repeat that? Louder this time?"

"It's… it's my back," he muttered, now just barely audible, "I-I can't reach it… or my legs."

Charlie bit back the "I told you so," that nearly forced its way out. _Well, this is gonna be weird for both of us, so I might as well get it over with._ She held out her free hand for the washcloth, saying, "Then let me help. That's why I'm here."

Mike was either much too tired or in too much pain to care anymore, for he handed the washcloth over without complaint, though he continued to avoid looking at her. Charlie started with his upper back and worked her way down, making sure to be very careful around his still-swollen lumbar region. She noted he took care to cover himself when she moved to his legs, for which she was extremely grateful. That would have been _too_ weird. _I've managed to go nearly twenty-three years without having a penis in my face, and I'd like to keep that streak up, thank you very much._ He was shaking finely by the end of it; she couldn't be sure why.

"There you go," she stated when she was done, "All squeaky clean. Here, just be careful gettin' out of the tub there… yup… that's it… just lemme get you a towel…"

She helped him wrap the towel around his waist, then got him into his bedroom. Everything in the room (and the whole apartment) was practically immaculate: neat, tidy, orderly. A place for everything and everything in its place. After living with Chet for so long, it felt almost abnormal. She allowed Mike to dry himself off and helped him get into a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt.

"Anything else I can do for you? Time for another pain pill?"

"Yeah, I didn't wanna take it before I got in the shower, but I need one now."

"Alright. Lemme get those and a glass of water. Be right back…"

When she returned with the pills and water, she handed them over and put the water on the nightstand beside him when he was done.

"Charlie, are you really gonna sleep on the couch tonight?" he asked.

_Poor guy looks dead serious, like I'm gonna be sleeping on nails or broken glass._

"Well, yeah. You said that's the only place to sleep besides this bed. Besides, I'm pretty small. Sleeping on a couch is no big deal for someone my size."

Mike's brow was knit with concern. Charlie could practically see him thinking.

"Are you sure it's alright?"

"Yeah, I've crashed on plenty of couches in my time."

Now he was chewing his lip. _Man, he's seriously upset over something… but what? Silent Stoker sure isn't telling me what's on his mind… wish he would._ The silence was becoming awkward, with Mike just blinking up at Charlie, brow still knit, gears still turning. Charlie ventured, "Do you not want me sleeping on your couch?"

He shook his head.

"Why don't you want me sleeping on the couch?"

"It's rude. You're my guest. You shouldn't have to sleep on the couch," he answered quietly.

"Well, there are only so many options here, Mike. It's the couch or the floor," she told him, "I'm not letting you sleep anywhere but in that bed, or you'll hurt your back even more. So unless you've got another plan, the couch is my bed until I leave."

Mike mumbled something, his lips moving without sound.

"What was that?"

"We could… uh, we… I mean, this is a pretty good-sized bed…"

"Yeah, it's a queen. What's your point?"

A hot pink flush crept into Mike's face. He took a moment, apparently trying to form his thoughts into cogent words. He finally stammered, "I'm-I'm tryin' to say that-that we could-we could share the bed."

Charlie lifted her eyebrows. Mike's face was a vivid red. _Poor guy, he's more nervous than the proverbial bride on her wedding night. Why should he be nervous about asking me to share a bed with him? What's he worried about?_ _Hell, it's not a bad idea, actually._ She just couldn't think of anything to say in response.

xXxXx

_Stupid stupid stupid!_ Mike's face was burning. He actively avoided Charlie's gaze, thankful he was lying on his stomach so it was easier to accomplish. _Idiot! You stupid, _stupid_ idiot! Why did you do that? Why?!_ Panic bubbled up in his chest, threatening to choke him, tightening around his lungs. Perhaps he could take it back. Maybe they could forget he'd said anything at all. The bed dipped under added weight, and Mike jumped at the touch of a hand on his shoulder.

"Mike, what's wrong?" Charlie asked gently, "Look, just, uh… just calm down. Breathe, okay? Everything's okay. What, do you think I'm mad? Or creeped out?"

Mike said nothing, not even moving. She had to be creeped out. He was almost ten years older than her, was supposed to be her friend, and now she was going to think he was just some pervert trying to get into her pants. _She should just leave me here to rot for the next three weeks… alone._ The panic rose up once more.

"Hey, I'm not mad, and I'm not creeped out. We're friends, Mike. I trust you. I've had to share beds before, so I'm cool with it. Besides, it's a good idea for me to sleep in here," she told him, "I'm a heavy sleeper, so if I'm in here, it's easier for you to wake me up if you need anything."

Still anxious, Mike asked, "Are you sure?"

"I'm quite sure. Now, please calm down. Just breathe."

He nodded, trying to do as he was bid. Charlie continued, "Good. Just keep on like that. I'm gonna go get some of my things and grab some pain pills for you for the morning. I'll be right back."

She hurried out of the bedroom, leaving Mike to his breathing and his thoughts. A little over a year ago, Charlotte Kelly was a scared little girl to Mike, someone he felt he needed to look after, to help, to protect. The Charlie he knew was one affected by the Incident, but he knew there had been a different Charlie once, one that was carefree and happy and unafraid… one that would probably never return. The Charlie he knew now had been broken and pieced back together, and yet this Charlie was the strongest person Mike knew. Indeed, he liked her very much. His thoughts skittered back to what John had told him a few months ago, about how she kissed John just before the Incident.

"Here we are," Charlie said, coming back into the room, wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts also, "This should be alright if you take it first thing in the morning when you wake up, especially since you just took those other ones. I'll just leave a glass of water- oh, yeah, I brought one in earlier. Oh well, having another won't hurt. Anyway, is there anything else I can get you? Anything you need?"

"I can't think of anything."

"Alright, well, if you need anything overnight, just wake me up. I'll be grumpy at first, but I'll get over it. I don't want you to hurt yourself more with any macho bullshit, okay?"

"Okay."

Mike shifted on the bed, trying to make himself comfortable in the unfamiliar sleeping position, tensing at the feeling of Charlie getting into bed beside him.

"Don't worry, Mike," she placated, "This doesn't change anything. We're still friends, and I don't think you're a creep or anything. Please… go to sleep. You need to rest."

"It's not weird?"

"Nope. Not to me. Now please… sleep."

Charlie turned off the light, rolled over on her side facing away from Mike, and was asleep almost instantly. Soft, snuffling noise filtered into Mike's hearing after a short while. He couldn't be sure when he finally drifted off into sleep, but he slept until morning, when he woke to sunlight pouring through the window of his bedroom and a burning pain across his lower back. With a soft grunt, he reached over and grabbed the two pills Charlie had left for him the night before, swallowing them down with the water. He stayed there on his stomach, waiting for the pills to kick in, and turned to look at the other side of the bed.

Charlie was still fast asleep, now facing Mike, having rolled away from the sunlight. Her jaw was slack, a quiet snoring still coming from her. She was curled up in a ball, her dark curls a wild mess. _She looks so peaceful. I'm not sure I wanna wake her._ He turned his head to look at his clock: 0911. _That's the latest I've slept in a while… but man, do I have to piss…_ Mike carefully moved his arm to nudge Charlie. She snuffled and fidgeted but didn't wake, so he nudged her again. This time she blinked awake, grumbling, "Time izzit?"

"Just after nine."

She made a noise of acknowledgement and pushed herself into a sitting position; Mike wished he could follow suit. Charlie grumbled a bit more before finally hauling herself out of bed and coming around to help Mike up. He hissed at the pain and stiffness in his back, but it did feel better than the day before, though not by much. (Morton had informed him he'd be in a good amount of pain for several days and should rest as much as possible for twenty-four to forty-eight hours.) Charlie stood by him as he shuffled to the bathroom.

"You okay to stand by yourself in there?" she asked, no trace of sarcasm in her voice.

"Yeah, if you just get me there, I think I can stand on my own," he replied.

Charlie grunted an affirmative, walking him to the toilet and heading back out, offering breakfast when he was done.

"All I know how to make is scrambled eggs, though I can't say John or Chet ever complained."

"Sounds good to me. If you plant me in front of the machine there, I can whip us up a pot of coffee."

"Sure, I'd like that. You really don't want me making the coffee anyway. Wouldn't be too good."

"Oh, once you've had my coffee, everything else will pale in comparison."

"Is that so?"

"Sure is."

"That's high talk. Here, just make coffee. I'm gonna use the bathroom real quick, and then I'll be back to start on those eggs. Be right back."

"I'll be right here."

He watched her walk away, thinking once again of what John had said. John told him how he felt when he looked at Charlie: a warmth in the pit of his stomach, a quickening of his heartbeat, an itch in his fingers to just _touch_ her. Mike didn't feel any of that. _Not even the other times I've seen her. Not even a flutter._ He slowly turned back to the coffee pot, going through the motions of making his perfect brew.

"Boy, that smells great, Mike," Charlie said.

"Thanks. I always make the coffee at the station because I'm always there before everyone else. I cook, too. Not sure what they're gonna do without me."

"They'll just have to suffer, I guess."

Charlie set to work cracking eggs, using half the dozen Mike had in the fridge.

"Hey, if I told you what to do, could you fry up some bacon? I didn't really eat anything yesterday…"

She agreed, and a short while later she had him positioned on the couch, a plate in front of him; he pretended not to notice his plate had more food than hers. It was a bit late for the news, so they listened to the radio instead. _This is nice… just sitting with someone, hanging out… nice to have someone there when you wake up, too. I guess I can see what all the fuss is about there._ They ate in silence, just listening to the radio. He cast glances over at Charlie every so often, taking in her pajamas and tousled hair. She looked so youthful, much younger than twenty-three. _And so calm, peaceful, relaxed… that's nice, too._

He'd sat with Charlie a few times after the Incident, when Chet needed to get out, so he was used to sitting alone with Charlie for a few hours at a time. One such time was when Roy and John took Chet camping, while Joanne had the kids at her parents'. Chet asked Mike to stay at his apartment with Charlie, who was still extremely uncomfortable being alone for an extended period.

"Why me?" Mike asked, "I don't really know her that well."

"She just likes you," Chet replied, "You don't ask a lot of unnecessary questions and won't hassle her about her feelings. She still kinda freaks sometimes, though, when she's alone for too long. I think you'll give her a-a sense of security or somethin', make her feel safe."

Mike found he couldn't argue with that, so he agreed to stay for a few days, and things were fairly quiet, neither really speaking until the last day. They'd been sitting on the couch, just as they were now, and Charlie abruptly spoke up, "It's awful."

Mike didn't reply, only looked at her, so she continued, "None of you have any idea what this kind of life is like. Chet tries to understand, and maybe he does 'cause he was in the shit in 'Nam once or twice… but no one really gets it."

"Why don't you explain it to me?" Mike offered.

Her lip trembled, her eyes filling with tears, and Mike instantly regretted speaking.

"I'm… I'm just so scared, Mike… all the time," she choked, "I can't feel anything but scared anymore, and it's just so _hard_. I can't leave the apartment alone or-or I have a-a fuckin' panic attack. I keep snapping at Chet for dumb shit. I have nightmares pretty much every night that make me afraid to go to sleep, so I'm always tired. I can't… I can't keep going like this, Mike. I can't-"

She choked on a sob, burying her face in her hands. Mike moved closer, resting a hand on her back, rubbing gently, hoping it made a difference. He wasn't able to think of anything to say at the time. Any words he thought of seemed to fall flat before they could even make it to his mouth, useless utterances that would have been of little comfort. Charlie was absolutely right, of course. He had no idea how she was feeling, how he would have reacted in a similar situation, how it would have affected him. He wanted to reassure her, wanted to tell her everything would be okay, that this would work itself out in the end, but he didn't. Such words felt condescending and unnecessary,

Today, about a year later, she sat there on his couch, contentedly eating bacon and eggs. She had a regular job, went out on her own, could be left alone without fear she would have a major panic attack. Most importantly, when she was quiet, it was because she wanted to be, not due to fear or anxiety. It was comfortable, as comfortable as Mike's own.

"Well, Mike, let's get you laying down and comfortable."

"Huh?"

"Your back? Or did you forget you tore a muscle in there? C'mon, Doc Morton said you should lie down and get plenty of rest. Said to ice your back, too, to keep the swelling down. I think I saw a bag of frozen peas there in the freezer. They're the best thing for ice packs, really conform to the body. I'll get it for ya. Just a minute…"

She returned with the bag wrapped in a dishtowel and helped him find a comfortable position for both his body and the ice pack. A soft groan escaped his lips as he settled in, the cold seeping through the towel into the tender flesh of his lower back.

"Remember, Mike, you tell me if you need anything, and I'll get it for you or help you up or whatever you need, alright?

"Alright, Charlie."

Charlie gave him a smile and curled up in the armchair with a book that was clearly well-loved, with its dog-eared pages and cracked spine. The front cover looked like it had been taped on after falling off probably more than once. He set to watching her read it, observing her changing facial expressions as she read. She would bite at her nails and smile and laugh silently and furrow her brow. At one point, she grinned and buried her face in the pages. _This is a privilege, to see her like this… to see her vulnerable… to see those little private moments no one else gets to see._ Something bright and warm bloomed in his chest, shown in a soft smile on his face.

"Would you like a book, too?"

Mike blinked at her. She smirked.

"You just look like you're trying to read mine with x-ray vision, so I thought I'd offer you one, whether it was yours or mine."

"What are you reading?"

"_The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers_. I've always loved these books, as you can probably see. My copy of _The Hobbit_ is even more beat up, if you can believe it."

"Can't say I've ever read them…"

Charlie's eyes went wide. _Good thing you have time to kill, Mike…_

"Oh, they're _classics_, Mike, you _have_ to read them! There's just so much…"

Thirty minutes later, Mike was engrossed in _The Hobbit_. From the chair, Charlie let out a quiet squeal that made Mike laugh softly. _I think I could get used to this._

The phone rang a few times on that first day Mike was home, dutifully answered by Charlie each time and passed on to Mike. All the guys called, though he spoke with Cap and Chet the longest. Cap was primarily concerned with how Mike was feeling and his back and how long he'd be out.

"Doc Morton said about four weeks, so it's about what you thought, Cap."

"_Anything else?"_

"Just to rest for the first day since I tore the muscle so bad, then to take it real easy 'til I feel better. He gave me some stretches and exercises to do when I feel up to it. He said he was hopeful I'd recover pretty quick, but he won't know more 'til I go back for a check-up."

"_As long as you do what the doc says, you'll be back with us in no time. And don't you worry about us, either. You just rest up so you're at a hundred percent when you come back."_

"Sure thing, Cap. Anything good happen after I left?"

"_Nothin' worth writing home about."_

Chet also inquired into Mike's health and how he was doing, but the conversation quickly cycled back to Charlie.

"_How's she holdin' up, Mike?"_ he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, everything's alright here," he replied, not wanting Charlie to know they were talking about her.

"_She's right there, huh?"_

"You got it. Just reading a book."

"_Hmmm… how was last night? I mean, did she sleep through the night?"_

"Yep, sure did. Slept like a baby."

"_Good… good…_"

There was a brief pause, followed by Chet saying, _"Y'know, this is the first time she's really staying somewhere strange since everything happened. I'm just worried about her."_

"Yeah, I know… but everything's okay, Chet. This is different."

"_Yeah… yeah, I guess..."_

They finished their conversation, and Mike dropped the phone back onto the receiver. The rest of the day passed quietly, with reading and the eventual delivery of Chinese food for dinner. When Mike stifled a yawn, Charlie hopped up to help him off the couch and lead him to the bedroom, practically tucking him into bed and getting his painkillers and a glass of water again. _I need to get her a real nice Christmas present this year for everything she's doing for me. Shit, I need to work OT to get her the present she deserves._

"Can I ask you something?"

Mike looked up at her as best he could, saying, "Sure thing. Ask away."

"Well, I didn't wanna say anything last night, and I kinda forgot about it today, but… is there a reason you don't at least have a pullout couch? I mean, I wasn't expecting a whole other bed in a one-bedroom apartment, but hell, even John had a pullout. I guess I just wanna know why you don't have anywhere for guests to sleep. What do you do when any of the guys come over and have a little too much and need a place to crash?" she queried.

"I guess the simplest answer is that I don't have people over," Mike replied, "not even the guys."

"Why not?"

_Because I'm so private. Because I can't open up. Because if I let them in, they'll see what a freak I am, how different I am. Because I need this to be my sanctuary, my place of calm and quiet. Not just anyone can be allowed into such a place. _Heat crept into Mike's face from his neck. Charlie's smile faded.

"Dammit, Mike, I'm sorry. I just can't keep my mouth shut. I really am just like Chet sometimes, runnin' my mouth 'til it gets me into trouble. I didn't mean to-… Mom always told the both of us, 'Curiosity killed the cat'."

"Yeah, 'but satisfaction brought it back'," Mike replied with a quiet sigh, "Look… it's alright. I'm used to people prodding a little further than they should. I work with Chet, remember? You were just… it was a logical question, I guess, and you were just curious. It's alright."

"You're sure you're not mad?"

"I'm sure, Charlie."

She gave him a soft smile, and like the night before, climbed under the covers beside him. Mike didn't tense up quite as much as he did the previous night, though he wished he hadn't tensed at all. _Hopefully, I'll have plenty of time to stop…_ Once again, Charlie was asleep first, however, tonight she laid down facing him. He couldn't keep a small smile from creeping onto his face.


	3. Sleeping Next to Someone

"_Sleeping next to someone,_

_not with someone, is perhaps_

_the most intimate you will_

_ever be with another human._

_In sleep, we are completely_

_defenseless. We are soft_

_and supple and childlike._

_Our hard exteriors fall away_

_when the sand hits our eyes._

_The way you sleep, with your_

_face softened and your arms_

_wrapped around my waist,_

_is the most beautiful thing_

_I have ever seen. I am not an_

_artist, but I may become one_

_just so that I can capture that_

_moment_."

-Michelle K., I Miss Sleeping Next To You.

Charlie felt sunlight warming her face and instinctively rolled away from the window, grumbling incoherently and trying to go back to sleep. Her brain had other ideas, reminding her Mike was sleeping right there beside her and making her return to slumber impossible. She blinked awake, looking over at him. Amazingly, he was still asleep. She'd been warned he was an early bird, always the first to the station in the morning and one of the last to leave. Indeed, he'd woken her up the two previous mornings before 0930, so it was nice to beat him to it this time.

Charlie carefully sat up, gazing down at her slumbering companion. Seeing people while they were asleep was interesting. People usually always looked younger when they were sleeping, and Mike was no exception. He looked almost childlike: mouth slack, expression peaceful, eyes dancing under his lids, brown hair tousled. It was endearing. _It's adorable, actually. Bet he doesn't sleep like this at the station. He probably snores when he sleeps there._ Charlie slowly got out of bed, careful not to wake Mike, and padded out to the bathroom. Mike was just waking up when she returned.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," she told him cheerfully, "Need to get up yet?"

"Nah, not jus' yet…"

Charlie returned to the bed, sitting beside him once more. Mike brought a hand up to rub at his eyes, blinking up at her sleepily. He'd managed to push the blankets down around his hips while she was gone, and his t-shirt had ridden up, revealing an expanse of skin from the tops of his hipbones to just above his belly button. Charlie felt her eyes briefly drawn there but felt nothing. _It's nice to look at, I guess, but I won't dwell on it. It's just skin and muscle and bone. Don't see what's so special about it._

After a few more minutes of laying around, Mike asked for some help getting up, though he needed less help than either morning previous. Charlie helped him settle on the couch, asking, "How are ya feelin' today, Mike?"

"Better," he replied with a small shrug (which was an improvement in itself), "I mean, my back still hurts, but I don't feel quite so bad as the last couple days. Might be able to walk by myself tomorrow at this rate."

"That's wonderful! Today, though, you just rest and let me help. Don't want you to push yourself before you're ready."

"Sounds good to me. Say, if you want some coffee like the last couple days, I need some help gettin' into the kitchen."

"That was pretty good coffee. I think I will help you up."

"Oh, well, thank you very much. That's very kind of you."

He offered to make them some omelettes, too, even if he needed Charlie to hand him things. _For a Mike Stoker omelette, I'm more than happy to help._ A few minutes later, he pulled them from the pan, allowing Charlie to plate them and set up their breakfasts in the living room. He asked her to put the radio on again, and Charlie was more than happy to oblige, if not a bit surprised when he asked for a rock station over the pop hits one that had been on. _I mean, I'm not complaining. It surprises me less than the pop station, actually. I always thought he'd be a little country myself. Guess maybe he's a little bit rock 'n roll, too._ They ate in silence, just listening to the music and enjoying each other's company. It was nice to just sit and enjoy the quiet with someone. She didn't get that with Chet. She cast a glance over at Mike, something still niggling at the back of her mind.

"Hey, Mike?"

"Hmmm? What is it?"

"Well… you remember from the other night… 'Curiosity killed the cat'…" she started, "I just… now, you don't have to answer if you don't want to… I only wanted to ask why-?"

There was a knock on the door. They both looked at each other.

"Were you expecting someone?" she asked.

Mike shook his head as another knock sounded at the door, irritated this time. Fear shot through Charlie's system, remembering the last time she's spent a few nights in a fireman's apartment and someone knocked on the door without warning. She quickly pushed it aside and got up to answer the door.

"Hello. May I help you?"

The woman on the other side of the door was certainly old but far from frail. She bore an air of authority and pride, standing straight-backed and feeling taller than she looked. The woman demanded, "Who are you?"

Charlie opened her mouth to reply, but the woman didn't give her a chance to respond, pushing into the apartment and calling, "Michael, where are you? You didn't tell me you'd hired help, dear. You should have told me you were looking."

"She's not help, Mother."

_Mother?_ Charlie's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh?" Mrs. Stoker turned toward Charlie, "Well, if you're not the help, then- oh! _Oh_, Michael is she your 'lady friend'?"

"_No_," they replied together.

"Mom, look, I hurt my back at work the other day," Mike explained, "Charlie here is just stayin' with me to help me out until I can get around alright again."

"My brother works with Mike at the station, ma'am. My name is Charlotte Kelly, but everyone calls me Charlie."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Charlotte," Mrs. Stoker told her, her demeanor changing, softening, "Michael, you didn't tell me you were hurt."

"I didn't wanna worry you," he mumbled, "You worry about me too much."

"I worry just enough! Goodness sakes, just look at the job you do! Running into burning buildings and going to car accidents… the number of times you've been hurt, darling!"

"That number is two, Mom. I was hurt my first year and then the other day. I've been in the department almost fifteen years now, and this is only the second time I've been hurt."

"Well, I wouldn't know that _because you never call_," she informed him, perching by him on the couch, "Anyway, I wanted to come by and remind you of your sister's anniversary party coming up in two weeks, on the 19th of April. Elizabeth has been married for twenty years now."

"I remember. I have off that day. I'll be there."

"Good. I'm expecting you. Your young lady is certainly invited, if you'd like to bring her. Oh, and if you'd like to invite the men you work with at the station, we have some room. Several people RSVP'd they wouldn't be able to make it, and we do want Elizabeth to have a wonderful, big party. I'd be happy to have your friends attend."

"Since when do you want a buncha firemen at a party?" Mike asked.

"I just want you to be comfortable. You always hide yourself away or make some excuse to leave early or avoid the people in our crowd. I thought that if your friends were there it would be more comfortable for you, darling."

"You've never cared about that before."

"Well, I care now… and you know I've always cared about what was best for you, and I made amends when I was wrong, Michael."

Charlie had hidden herself in the small kitchen, watching the exchange, waiting for an all-clear to emerge. Mrs. Stoker sighed, saying, "I'm sorry, Michael, dear, it's just that we see you so rarely anymore. You hardly even call. This is going to be a big family event, something nice for your sister. Now, those men you work with, they're like another family to you. You keep them safe, and they keep you safe in turn, so… so I would like to meet them."

"If… when you put it that way… I can at least tell them they're invited."

"Well, I hope they come."

Mrs. Stoker rose from the couch, planted a kiss on her son's forehead, and called, "Charlotte, dear, would you walk me down to my car? I usually ask Michael, but he's clearly incapacitated at the moment."

"Uh… yeah. Just lemme put some shoes on. One second…"

Once they were out on the stairs, Charlie could see Mrs. Stoker clearly did not need any help getting down the stairs or to her car. She was just beginning to wonder what was going on when the old woman leaned in and whispered, "Charlotte, I am a lying old bat."

"Are-are you, Mrs. Stoker?"

"Please, dear, it's Susan, and yes. Yes, I am. You see, Michael's birthday isn't until June, but he hates being fussed over. He would never let me throw a party for him if he even suspected it was so. Therefore, this isn't just a party for his sister. It's also an early birthday for him."

"Oh, that is very sneaky."

"You have to be with him. He sees through a lie in a New York minute, so you learn to get creative. Tell me, Charlotte, is he holding up alright?"

"As well as can be expected," Charlie replied, "He won't be back to a hundred percent for almost a month, but he should be able to get around at the party."

"He's letting you help, though?"

"He doesn't really have a choice, Mrs. Stoker."

The old woman smiled at her, one that was very much like Mike's.

"Remember, Charlotte dear, let's keep this teensy little secret from Mike, okay?"

Charlie agreed, helping Mrs. Stoker unnecessarily into her car.

"What was that about?" Mike asked when she returned.

"Nothin' much," she shrugged, "Just wanted me to walk her to her car. Asked how you were, if you were letting me help."

"I don't really have a choice."

"That's what I said."

There was a brief pause, and Mike asked, "Oh, what was that you were gonna ask me earlier?"

Charlie looked to the engineer on the couch. She wanted to ask her question, wanted to ask Mike every question about him that popped into her head, but her courage was gone. She simply smiled at him, saying, "It's not important. Why don't I take care of those dishes?"

xXxXx

About a week after everything happened, Charlie took Mike to Rampart for a check-up with Morton.

"So, Mr. Stoker, how are you feeling?" Morton asked.

"Much better. I can get around on my own now, even if I'm a little slow. Back still hurts if I move too much or the wrong way, but it's much better than it was even a few days ago."

"That's great news, Stoker," Morton told him, "Now, I'm going to give you a list of exercises to do that will keep your back muscles strong. Your back still hurts, so your first instinct will be to hold back and not do too much with it, but you need to be sure to stretch to so the muscle heals properly. Based on the progress you've made, I'd say you have another… month before you can get back to the station."

Mike's heart sank.

"A month? But, Doc, last week you said-"

"I know what I said last week, but you know these things are subject to change based on what your body tells me. This is a major injury for you, your first in a long time, so you'll need some more time to heal properly. It happens."

Mike sighed heavily. _I was hoping to be back sooner than that. Maybe I could get light duty in another week._ Morton went on about what Mike should and shouldn't do at home alone. That struck him, leaving a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. The last week had been one of the best, the past week he spent with Charlie. _Spending time with her like that was, well, nice. Damn, I wish I could think of a word better than nice to use._ Charlie was waiting for him out in the lobby.

"_So_, what'd the doc say?"

He repeated what Morton had told him as they went out to the car, Mike still walking a bit slower than normal.

"Well, that's good, that you can be on your own again, that you're recovering well. All good."

Mike said nothing, so Charlie went on, "I've noticed it, y'know, how much better you're doing. I mean, just last night, you showered on your own, and you didn't even need my help getting dressed! And that's… that's good."

She fell silent until they were in Mike's apartment, looking about as uncomfortable as the silence that hung over them. She wrung her hands, picking at the hem of her t-shirt.

"Look, I, uh… I've gotta go back to work, Mike."

"I know," he mumbled.

"Don't… I mean, I've loved staying here, and I hate to leave you alone, but I need the money to get some work done on my ride and to help Chet with the rent. I owe him comin' up soon," she explained, not meeting his eyes.

"No… no, I get it," Mike replied, "Just… it was nice."

"Yes. Very nice."

_I just want you to stay. I don't know why, can't explain why… please, can't you understand that I just want you to stay… like you understood that I didn't want help before. I wish I knew why I wanted you to stay…_

"You could always-… no nevermind. It's a stupid idea," he mumbled.

"What is?"

"Just… I was thinkin' maybe… maybe you could still stay here for a little more. There's still some stuff I'm not allowed to do."

"I mean, I guess I could… but I've got some midnights comin' up. I wouldn't wanna bother you, Mike, and I wouldn't be much fun sleepin' while you were awake."

"It wouldn't bother me. Besides, they don't keep you on midnights over there all the time. You'll have midnights tomorrow and the next day, off Wednesday, then… what? Four hours Thursday, and days Friday through Sunday?"

"This week I will. That Wacky Thursday'll throw everything off every time. Keeps you guys in business, though."

"Sure does," Mike said quietly, "Look… I mean it. It wouldn't bother me one bit if you stayed here a while longer. Plus you can make sure I get to my sister's party next week."

"True. Your mother was adamant I get you there. Called the other day to ask if you had a nice suit. Makes me think I'll have to go get myself a new dress. Got nothin' fancy enough for this kinda thing."

"But you'll do it?"

"Do what?"

"Stay here a while longer?"

Heat crept into his face. He couldn't understand why he felt so needy. He'd never felt this way before, not about anyone. The thought of being alone, of Charlie not being there was suddenly unbearable. _Maybe I just need someone, anyone. I'd probably let John or Chet stay here at this point._ Above him (though not very far), Charlie replied, "Of course… if that's what you want, Mike. I'd be happy to stay."

Relief flooded Mike's system, making him almost light-headed. Charlie continued, "Welp, I start up my shifts tomorrow night at 1930, so I need to go home and get my uniform so I have it for work, but other than that it should be alright."

"Thank you, Charlie."

She smiled at him, saying, "I'll go now and get my stuff, just so I have it. I should be back within the hour. Can I get anything while I'm out?"

"Yeah, could you drop me at the station, actually?" Mike asked, "I need to pick up my truck finally, and I can swing around to the grocery store to pick up some stuff for dinner tonight."

"Only if you plan on letting me eat some of that dinner."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Charlie."

Mike decided on making his signature spaghetti and meat sauce for Charlie. The guys always raved about it, and Chet hinted that Charlie would love it, too. _It's the least I can do for her after all she's done for me._ He was working on the sauce when she returned with a small bag, asking to hang her uniform up in his closet.

"Boy, that sure smells good, Mike."

"Thanks. It's an old family recipe from my aunt. Here, can you help a little? I just need a quick hand…"

When it was all finished, Mike portioned out the spaghetti while Charlie set up the dinner trays in front of the couch. Charlie started eating as soon as she was seated, shoving a forkful of food into her mouth. She let out a low moan, saying, "_Damn_, that's good," around her food. Something told Mike he should have felt something when Charlie made that noise, but there was nothing. No fluttering of his heart, no butterflies in his stomach, nothing.

xXxXx

A low rumble reached Charlie's ears as she finished her dinner. She looked to the window.

"You hear that, Mike?" she asked.

"Yeah… sounded like thunder rollin' in."

Sure enough, the sky outside was a darkening indigo, lightning sparking within the heavy clouds. Mike offered to do the dishes, though Charlie refused to let him do it alone, so he washed while she dried. She offered up little jokes to him while they cleaned up, eliciting a rumbling laugh from him, a genuine laugh she hadn't heard from him before. _It reminds me of the thunder. I think I like it… I think I'd like to hear it again._ He went about his stretches after that, with Charlie watching in mild interest, please to see he wasn't pushing too hard or holding too much back. The thunder rolled outside the window, drawing Charlie's attention once more. She rose from the couch and went to the window, peering out into the oncoming storm. A bolt of lightning streaked to the ground, closely followed by a loud, long peal of thunder; both made her jump. Mike came over to stand beside her.

"I've always liked storms," he said quietly, "There's just something about 'em… like… I dunno. They're just nice to look at, especially when you can catch one rollin' in like this."

Charlie didn't reply. She reached out and opened the window, breathing deeply. The air was thick with rain and ozone, and she could now hear the rain hitting the ground in driving sheets. Another streak of lightning startled her with its accompanying thunder.

"Sounds like a big one. May last most of the night and take out the power," Mike told her, "Just wait here, Charlie. I have some candles and matches in the kitchen."

Sure enough, shortly after Mike returned to her side, the lights around them flickered and died, from inside the apartment to the streetlamps outside. The sky was alive with lightning and the sound of rain driving against the building. Charlie was mesmerized, just as she was when she was a little girl. _I've always loved storms, too, Mike. I've never been afraid of them. Mom used to say I was born in a storm, came in a whirlwind in no time at all._ Mike shut the window as it began to rain inside. Charlie made for the door, rushing out and pressing herself against the railing, reveling in the feeling of the rain on her skin.

"Charlie, what are you doing?" Mike called over the wind and rain.

"I used to do this when I was a little girl, and… and I just couldn't help it. I haven't done it in ages. I just… I'd forgotten how good it feels. You should come out here with me, Mike."

She turned to face him, the wind whipping at her hair, lightning flashing behind her. Mike's blue eyes were just wider than usual, enough for Charlie to notice. _I was born in a storm. I _am_ a storm. How could I have forgotten? When did I forget I am power and wind and rain and thunder and lightning? _Mike held out his hand, still standing in the safety of his apartment. _Come out into the storm, Mike. It'll heal you like it's healing me now. You'll feel stronger for it, I know it. Please, come out into the storm._

"Come back inside, Charlie," Mike implored, "You'll-you'll catch a cold or something."

She looked to his outstretched hand for a long moment before finally taking it and allowing herself to be led back inside. His hand was warm and big and rough, yet gentle in its grip. It sent warmth spreading up her arm as rivulets of rain rolled down her skin. She didn't want to let go when he told her was going for a towel and some dry clothes.

"Here, you'll feel better when you're dry," he said quietly.

"Thanks, Mike," she muttered, "Sorry to act so silly, I just… I had to."

"I don't think it was silly."

"Really?"

"Okay, maybe I thought it was a little silly, but only because you could get sick."

They shared a small smile, and Mike went to the window once more, doggedly staring out at the storm while Charlie changed into her dry clothes. She joined him when she was done, taking up her place at his side, watching the storm raging before him. She then cast her gaze up at Mike's face, taking in the way the lightning flashed across his features, and she felt courage rising up in her chest.

"So… I've heard that when people can't listen to the radio or watch the tube," Charlie spoke up carefully, "they talk to each other. Whaddaya say? Wanna talk, Mike?"

He turned his head, meeting her gaze. A long moment passed.

"Sure. We can talk."

"I wanna talk about you."

"That's fair."

"And me."

"So… you wanna talk about me and you?"

"Why not? See, your dear mother seems to be under the impression that I'm your 'lady friend', which I can only assume means that she thinks I'm your girlfriend. Honestly, she looked like she'd never been happier than when she thought you'd had a girlfriend staying over. Most mothers, in my experience, aren't generally fond of thinking their precious son is sleeping with a loose young woman who's ready to corrupt his morals at any moment."

"But you're not-"

"I know that. You know that, but she doesn't. She comes over in the morning and sees a girl in her pajamas, and naturally she assumes I spent the night here, which is true. Now, in this modern age in which we live, spending the night usually means the involved parties had sex."

Mike's face went red as his beloved engine in record time. Charlie smirked, continuing in a low, matter-of-fact tone, "See, I notice things, Mike Stoker. I'm not stupid. The first night I spent here, when you suggested we share the bed, I thought you were gonna have a stroke. The only conclusion I can come to is that you've never asked to share a bed with anyone… ever."

He cast his gaze down to the floor, his face still red, his expression one of forced blankness.

"I'm still pretty young," Charlie explained, " but I have seen some things in my time. I've been friends with plenty of guys. Some of them liked tall girls, short girls, skinny girls, fat girls, blondes, brunettes, redheads, black girls, white girls, brown girls, ugly girls, pretty girls… pretty boys. I saw the way those nurses at Rampart looked at you. They would have tumbled into bed with you without question, and possibly one or two of the male orderlies… but that's not you."

She did not phrase it as a question, and Mike did not respond. Charlie continued, smiling to herself now, "I bet when your friends started gettin' interested in what was between their legs and how it worked when paired with what someone else had between _their_ legs, you couldn't understand the attraction. No matter how many stories you hear, no matter how great everyone says it is, you just don't get sex. Not why people do it, why they want to do it, why they crave it, why they say it's so wonderful. None of it."

Mike brought his gaze up to meet hers at last, his face hot pink instead of red.

"You… it's the same with you."

That was not a question, either. Charlie smirked.

"Always. Until I kissed Johnny that one time, I'd never kissed anyone like that before. I thought I was gonna die, so I figured I wasn't gonna die without being kissed by someone who knows how. Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about, I guess."

"Was the fuss worth it?" Mike queried.

She shrugged, "It was alright. Think I'd have to be in the mood for it, though."

"I remember-…" he started, paused, went on, "I remember you saying once that-that Wheeler had been upset when he attacked you and John because he thought you'd had sex with John when you wouldn't sleep with him, wouldn't even kiss him. Was…was that part of the reason you broke it off with him?"

"Probably, yeah. He just… he was starting to get so controlling and weird after we only went on a few dates, so I knew he was gonna be trouble… but yeah, he started gettin' pushy about that physical stuff, and I didn't want to, so I dropped him. Kinda put me off the dating scene if I'm being honest about it. I mean, I need someone who respects me for how I am."

Mike was now smiling gently, his cheeks their normal color again. _He knows what I mean. I've never met anyone who knows what I mean before._

xXxXx

Mike's heart was thumping in his chest. _No one's understood before. I can't believe I finally met someone who actually understands._

"Because…" he said hopefully, "because it's not about trying to be on some moral high horse. We didn't choose to be like this, to be different."

"And how different we are, Mike. Y'know, people are always tryin' to say that homosexuals are different and unnatural for being interested in their same sex, but they are at least interested in sex, which really makes them like anyone else. It's as though there was some kind of test for sexuality when we were born and we got 'none of the above' for ours."

"It's funny, really. It seems to complicate things rather than make things easier."

Charlie made a noise of agreement, and Mike felt himself inch closer to her side before he knew he was doing it. He was just so happy. _I haven't been this happy since we got the new engine._ He'd gone his whole adult life thinking he was too different to ever properly belong simply because he wasn't interested in sex.

"It's nice to know there's someone I know who won't judge me, " Mike spoke up after a moment, "or try to tell me I haven't found the right person yet or that I just need to get laid."

"Does it happen often?"

"No. It used to, but I learned to skirt the questions people ask. The guys at 51s don't even ask me personal stuff like that anymore, so that works out… but I'm sure that if I brought it up, that's what they would say."

She made another soft noise, then said, "I know what you mean. My girlfriends have just stopped asking anymore, too. They know I'm a little different, and they're kinda used to it now. It's just part of me being me."

"What about your brother? Does Chet know you're… different?" Mike asked.

"I've never said anything flat out, but I'm sure he's noticed. He probably prefers I don't get involved with people, anyway. I mean, me and Chet are pretty close, so as long as I'm happy, he's happy. What about you? Like, does your mom know, or have an idea?" Charlie queried.

"Probably," he replied, "She always used to ask when I was gonna get a girlfriend and get married and settle down, but not anymore. I think the other day she was just shocked to think a girl spent the night that she had to say something. My older brother and sister are both married with kids, so she doesn't need grandchildren. I guess married is just what everyone thinks is normal."

"It's sex that everyone thinks is normal, not marriage. Marriage is just how they try to ensure they'll get sex."

It was Mike's turn to make a quiet noise of agreement. A long, comfortable silence fell over them there at the window, watching the storm roll over their little corner of LA. Mike took the time to enjoy the quiet companionship, something rare at 51s… especially when Chet and John started up.

"Alright… I think I'm gonna turn in," Charlie said when the storm started petering out, "It'll give me time to wake up early tomorrow so I can take a nap before work."

"Good idea."

"Yeah… anyway, don't feel obligated to go to bed, too. I mean, it's your place."

"No… no, I think I'll turn in, too… if that's okay."

"Of course it is, Mike. Like I said, your place."

Mike found himself happy to have this routine with Charlie. _It's just so great to have someone there that cares about me and makes sure I'm okay when I'm not at the station. I never thought just laying next to someone could be so nice._ He'd grown used to falling asleep beside her warmth, and being sure she knew he meant nothing sexual by wanting to (literally) sleep with her was comforting. To know she wasn't seeking anything sexual either was even moreso. For the first time, he didn't tense even a little when she climbed into the bed next to him. He found he didn't mind when he woke in the morning to her fingers brushing the skin of his bicep.


	4. No Matter What Has Happened

_What you need to know about the past is that no matter what has happened, it has all worked together to bring you to this very moment. And this is the moment you can choose to make everything new. Right now._ ~Author Unknown

Charlie slumped into Mike's apartment just after 0800 following her second midnight, feeling more rundown than usual after such a shift. _Johnny and Roy probably feel the same after the shit that went down this past shift._ She could smell breakfast cooking and coffee brewing and became immediately grateful for the decision to stay with Mike, giving him a joking, "Honey, I'm home."

Mike chuckled at that, coming out of the kitchen. He took one look at her and asked, "Rough shift?"

"I'd really rather not talk about it, Mike… not just yet, anyway. Breakfast gonna be ready soon?"

He gave her an affirmative, allowing her to head to the bedroom and change out of her uniform. Charlie just wanted a good meal and a reason to think about anything other than her last shift. The phone rang, Mike picking it up in the living room and calling, "Hey, Charlie, it's your brother!"

_So much for that idea. _She picked up the line in the bedroom, saying, "Hey, Chet. What's up?"

"_Not much, Charlie. How are ya?"_ he asked, trying to sound nonchalant and failing.

"I'm alright. Just got back to Mike's. He's making breakfast now."

"_You're just sayin' to make me jealous. We're dyin' without Stoker's cooking, and here you are gettin' cooked for every day."_

"That's because Mike likes me best, Chet."

"_Well, how could he not? Anyway, I just… Roy told me about that run you sent them on this morning, so just remember if you need to talk to someone, you can always call me or Roy… though I think Roy's gonna be a little busy with Johnny today. I guess you could always talk to Mike, too. He's a good listener."_

"Yeah, I remember."

"_Good. I just wanna be sure you're okay, sis. You know that."_

"I do."

"_Alright, well… just call if you need me. I presume Stoker's behaving himself?"_

"Mike Stoker is a saint, don't you worry about that."

"_I can only imagine. Okay, have a good day, then, sis. Love you."_

"Love you, too, Chet. Bye."

She hung up the phone and headed out into the living room, where Mike had set up the dinner trays in front of the couch, each bearing a plate piled with eggs, bacon, and toast and a glass of orange juice.

"Boy, Mike, you sure know how to treat a girl," she told him.

"My mother did raise me to be a gentleman," he replied.

"And what a wonderful job she did," she said, starting in on the eggs, "Oh, did you need to go shopping for a suit or a shirt or a tie for the party? I'm going out for a dress today, so just lemme know if you wanna come."

"Yeah, I should probably get a new shirt… maybe a tie to go with it."

" 'Kay, I'll probably go out around noon or so. Wanna take a quick nap before I go, like right after breakfast."

"That sounds like a plan. You want me to wake you up at… eleven?"

She agreed, finishing her breakfast and heading into the bedroom. The rest of the day went very well. They went out to the shops and picked out some nice pieces for the party, with Charlie making sure Mike's new shirt and tie matched her dress. Charlie even bought them lunch at the diner she used to work at, ensuring they were tucked away in the corner booth. They had taken a couple of bites out of their burgers when Mike quietly spoke up, "Hey, Charlie, I just… you know you can talk to me about stuff… about anything, right?"

Her mouth full of burger, she could only nod. Mike continued, "I just want you to know that I'm happy to listen to any problems you have."

"I know that, Mike."

"Good. That's… that's good. Uh… yeah. Good," Mike said, his face pink.

"Maybe we can talk later, but for now, let's just enjoy lunch. It's heavy stuff I've got on my mind."

Mike nodded, returning to his cheeseburger. _He's a good guy, this Mike Stoker. Probably better than I deserve to have for a friend. I hope he won't be mad when he finds out I tricked him into attending a surprise early birthday party._ Mike also bought his sister and her husband an anniversary gift while they were shopping, a nice set of china plates he'd spotted in the window of an antique shop they passed. Charlie felt bad for not getting Mike a birthday present, but she honestly had no idea what to get him.

Charlie was pleased to note the rest of the day passed calmly, neither wanting to broach the subject that had so upset her and the paramedics of 51s. It felt too fresh to talk about at the moment, too harsh, too raw. She felt Mike's eyes on her every so often, and she knew he wanted to talk about what was bothering her but didn't want to force her.

"Hey, are you alright, Charlie?" he asked at last, "You… I don't mean to be rude, but you sure look beat. Maybe you should turn in early tonight."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. I do feel pretty tired," she agreed.

In spite of her weariness, she found it difficult to get to sleep. She just laid there, thinking about what happened that early morning and listening to the muffled sounds of the television in the living room. _Perhaps telling wouldn't be too bad. Talking to Mike helped before, so why not now?_ Such thoughts fled when Mike came in and carefully got into bed beside her, laying on his back as usual, making sure they weren't touching. Charlie pretended to be asleep when he came in, but his warm presence soon lulled her into sleep.

She woke to darkness, only a sliver of moonlight peeking through the blinds. _That's odd, I usually sleep through the night. Did Mike need me?_ She called his name softly, knowing it would get his attention. No response. _Also odd._ Mike woke at the drop of a hat. Charlie calling his name was sure to wake him up, but he didn't even stir. A cold unease settled in the pit of Charlie's stomach, leeching out into her chest and bones. Her mind screamed at her _notrightnotrightnotrightnotrightnotrightnotrightnotright_ as she reached over to turn on the light. The scream choked off in her throat.

The warmth and comfort was no longer beside her, replaced by a ghastly monster. The creature's skin was pallid, its eyes dead, its flesh sloughing off. Parts of the cheeks were gone, revealing the rotting muscle and bony jaw underneath. The eyes were sunken, and so was part of the skull on one side of its head. The creature sat up, grinning monstrously, horribly. Bony fingers closed around her throat, cutting off her air, making it impossible to scream. She clawed desperately at the hands, only succeeding in ripping away some of the dead flesh. The smell of death filled her nostrils even as she struggled for breath. She tried to scream. The creature only laughed, saying in a low, rasping voice, "Did you miss me, _Charlotte_?"

xXxXx

Mike wasn't quite sure what woke him at first. He was usually able to sleep through the night when he was home, with only the phone or alarm able to wake him. He blinked in the darkness, his eyes adjusting to the weak moonlight filtering in through the blinds. _It wasn't the phone, or it would still be ringing. It's not my alarm, either._ Foggy from sleep, he took a moment to fully realize what exactly pulled him to wakefulness. He carefully sat up, looking at the young woman beside him.

Charlie was sleeping fitfully, her expression far from peaceful. She had curled in on herself protectively. Small noises escaped her lips, and Mike understood it was those noises that woke him. Poor Charlie was whimpering and moaning and shaking under the covers. He reached out, laying his hand on her arm and trying to gently wake her from her nightmare. She flinched violently at his touch, issuing a low whimper that went straight to Mike's heart.

"Charlie? Charlie, wake up," he whispered.

The whimpers turned to a quiet sobbing that was worse than anything Mike had ever heard.

"Charlie, Charlie, _please_ wake up," he pleaded, louder now, "You're safe now. You're safe, I promise, Charlie. Just wake up. Please, wake up. It's Mike. You're safe here with me. Come on, please, just wake up…"

He kept on in the same tone, desperately wanting her to wake up, though he wasn't quite sure how he could help once she did. After a minute or so, he realized the sobbing had gotten louder, meaning she had finally woken up. Mike helped her into a sitting position beside him. There was a brief moment in which she tried to calm down but failed, and she pressed herself against his chest. Mike felt his body stiffen involuntarily, unused to such physical contact. Slowly, he moved his arms to encircle her, holding her to his chest in a loose embrace, and racked his brain for the right words to calm her. He couldn't think of anything to say that would help, so he simply tightened his arms around her and repeated his words from earlier, "You're safe with me," in a low murmur. Charlie snuggled up a little closer to him. Mike found his hands moving of their own accord to rub her back soothingly, to stroke her hair.

"Sorry, Mike," she sniffed when she finally stopped crying, "I haven't… it's been almost a year since the last one…"

"Hey, you don't have to be sorry for anything. It was just a nightmare. Coulda happened to anyone."

"I know, I just… I'm just sick of 'em. I thought they were finally done."

"What happened to you was terrible and scary, Charlie. It's alright if you're still having nightmares about it, and it will be for a long time," he told her gently, "Why don't you tell me what happened? It may help."

"Oh, nothing too crazy, just a zombie Alex Wheeler trying to choke me to death. Not the worst I've ever had, anyway."

"Why… why do you think you had a nightmare about it tonight?" he asked carefully.

"Probably the domestic disturbance call I dispatched John and Roy to," she explained, "Poor girl. The cops relayed a lot of the info to me for the squad. Her boyfriend beat her so bad he broke her neck. She died before John and Roy even got there. Boyfriend ran out just as the cops got there, so they had to go find him. I guess it just got to me, is all…"

"Well, that's okay. These things are bound to happen with what happened to you. It was scary, and with the job you work in you're gonna hear more things that will remind you of what happened, but it'll get better. I promise."

"And how would you know?"

"Experience," he told her, his voice quiet, "At the end of my probie year, we got called to this huge fire at an old apartment building. Place went up like a tinderbox at around two AM, which is a pretty bad time for a fire because people are all asleep, so they have less time to wake up and get to safety. The rescue teams managed to get a few people out, but it just got too hot too fast, so they were pulled out pretty early on. I was workin' a line practically all night. We couldn't even get the fire under control until just before sunrise and didn't get it all out until about eight. Then we had to do recovery.

"We found almost thirty people inside dead, mostly from smoke inhalation. It was… that was the first time I'd seen people die in a fire. I mean, we'd been to car accidents before that, so I'd seen dead bodies before, probably DBs that looked much worse, but… god, Charlie, it was bad. I could see how scared they were when they died there in their apartments. It was late '62, but I remember it like it was yesterday. Me and my partner went in one apartment and found four kids, all dead."

"Oh, Mike… Mike, that's awful."

"Yeah… the oldest was thirteen, watching her younger siblings while their mother worked a midnight shift. The youngest was two. Another guy found a family of three dead in another apartment, the parents trying to shield their baby from the smoke. None of us that worked that recovery came out without being affected by it. Bunch of us had nightmares about what we saw… especially me."

"Do you-… do you still have nightmares?" she asked timidly.

"Sometimes. Really only get 'em now if we go on a run and a kid dies in a fire. It really has to be that specific anymore, but at first, I was having them almost every night. Our captain made sure we all went to see the department shrink after, and it really helped."

"And that's why you told Chet it was a good idea for him to go, because you knew it was."

"Experience is a pretty great teacher," Mike said, "and it's a great way to help others."

"Sure is," she smiled up at him, "Thanks, Mike. Thank you so much."

"You're very welcome."

Charlie pressed herself against his chest again, and Mike found it comforting.

"Come on, Charlie," he whispered after a few minutes, "Let's go back to sleep."

"Can we stay like this?" she murmured, "I like this."

"Yeah… me, too."

He laid down, and Charlie curled up next to him, laying her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her. Mike had never slept with someone like this before… _and I don't think I'd want to with anyone else._ Charlie made a quiet snuffling sound, having drifted back to sleep. Mike followed suit not long after.


	5. In the Eyes of Some

**_So, I just watched the episode 'Daisy' for the first time the other day, where all the paramedics are in a flap about this new nurse and she cons them all into helping out an orphanage. Well, I wrote this before seeing that, because Marco gets a date with her at the end, and for some reason, I've just always had the picture in my head of a married Marco. That is why Marco is married here. Plus, I kind of like the symmetry of having three married guys and three single, so there's that, too._**

* * *

><p><em>I have no ambition in this world but one, and that is to be a fireman. The position may, in the eyes of some, appear to be a lowly one; but we who know the work which the fireman has to do believe that his is a noble calling. Our proudest moment is to save lives<em>. -Edward F. Croker

"Now remember, Chet, this is an early birthday party for Mike, only he doesn't know," Charlie told her brother over the phone Friday morning, "His mother set it all up special to surprise him because he doesn't like being fussed over. And _please_ behave yourself at his parents' house."

"_I will, Charlie. Jeez, come on, I'm not an idiot."_

"I'm willing to debate that."

"_Oh, that's real cute, Charlotte. Really."_

"Hey, you walked right into that one. Anyway, I gotta go before Mike gets home. He went out to pick up some stuff for dinner tonight."

"_He's bein' good to you, then?"_

"He's wonderful. A perfect gentleman."

"_Wonderful how?"_

"Not the way you're thinkin', Chet," she replied, "He's just a really great guy, is all. You know that. Come on, you didn't act like this when I was stayin' with John."

"_I had a whole lot more on my mind when you were stayin' with John."_

"Mike Stoker has been a perfect saint the whole time. Hasn't even looked at me funny."

She thought it best to leave the part where she was sharing a bed with him.

"_You know I just wanna be sure people are treatin' my baby sister right."_

"I'm bein' treated just fine. Ate better the last coupla weeks here than I have in months, probably. Anyway, look I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow. You have the address for the party right?"

Chet repeated it back correctly, and Charlie hung up just as Mike returned laden with groceries.

"Well, Charlie, we've got the rest of the day to waste. What would you like to do?" Mike asked once everything was put away.

"Ooh… how about we… go to the beach? I haven't been in forever," she replied.

"Beach sounds fun. Haven't been in a while myself."

Less than an hour later, they were sitting by the ocean with a cooler of sandwiches and beer. Charlie brought along a tattered copy of some Sherlock Holmes stories to peruse, alternating between reading and people-watching. She tried to amuse Mike by putting her Holmes to work and started deducing things about people on the beach, most likely not doing a very good job. Mike laughed at her attempts, a rich, full sound that lightened her heart.

"I wouldn't quit your day job to be a detective," he told her, still laughing slightly.

"Yeah, but it's sure a fun way to pass the time."

"S'pose it is."

"Oh, by the way, Chet called while you were out. The guys are all gonna be at your sister's party tomorrow," she stated, "They all sound pretty excited."

Mike made a noncommittal noise, but Charlie saw his expression darken slightly.

"What is it?"

"Oh, I dunno… just…" he paused, wet his lips, continued, "My parents live in a pretty ritzy house. I always hear how all you guys had money troubles growing up, and… well… I never did. My father's in real estate, so he always made plenty of money, and my mother's family had pretty good money, too. They still live in the house I grew up in, so…"

His voice trailed off. Charlie spoke up, "What, you're afraid of what we're all gonna think of you?"

He nodded. She sighed and said, "Oh, Mike, we're not gonna suddenly think of you any different just because your parents have money, especially not the guys. They know you're a great guy and that you're good at your job, that you take your job seriously."

"Of course I do. I'm not some jumped up rich kid whose dad bought him a spot on a line," Mike told her, perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary, "I worked hard to get this far, to get to where I am now, to get to where I wanted to be."

_Oh, I think I've touched a nerve._ She asked carefully, "So, you've always wanted to be an engineer, then?"

"Yeah. A girl I went all through school with, her dad was a fireman, and he was just… I really looked up to him. Every time I went to her house and he was there, he was just so polite and kind, even when he was tired from a shift and I was asking a hundred questions. He was always the one doing our fire safety stuff at school, too, I guess 'cause his daughter went there. Tony Mangiaccio, that was his name."

"Sounds like a pretty cool guy."

"Yeah… yeah, he was."

"What happened to him?"

"Died at a call when we were fourteen, right after we started high school," Mike explained, his voice low, his eyes downcast, "It was a really bad warehouse fire, from what I remember. Angie was pretty tore up over it for a while."

"Well, that's what happens when a girl's daddy dies."

"It's strange, though. Even then, I knew I wanted to be a fireman. Even after the funeral and seeing what could happen and how dangerous it was, I knew that was what I wanted to do. My parents didn't want me to. They wanted me to go to college and go into business with dad, but I knew better. I did about a year and a half of school to make them happy, then went behind their backs and signed up for the Academy. My folks were pretty sore about it, but they came around fairly quickly. They could see that I really loved doing it, so they were happy that I was happy. I think joining LACoFD was probably the best day of my life."

"See, you'll be fine," Charlie assured him, "The guys know that. From what I've seen, the guys that join the department really wanna be there, for one reason or another. Can't say I've seen one guy who's half-assed about bein' a fireman. The guys all think pretty highly of you, and the fact that your family's loaded doesn't even matter to them. Or me. Now, c'mon, Mike, we're supposed to be relaxing. Alright, so this lady walking up now probably has a cat. No, two cats…"

Mike snorted at her poor deductions and started trying some of his own, just as bad as Charlie's, until Charlie was sore from laughing. _Now, this is how you spend a day off, laughing and relaxing on the beach._ She loved it. They had their lunch, drank a couple beers, took a dip in the ocean. It was an all-around calm day, one she felt they sorely needed. She scooted closer to Mike as the sun began to set, remembering how it felt to have his arm around her when she woke from her nightmare over a week ago. _It felt so nice… so safe. I've never felt that with a guy before._ They watched the sky darken, watched the pinks and oranges deepen to reds and purples, to inky indigo. They watched the stars twinkle into life, and she pointed out the ones that were actually planets, that didn't quite sparkle like the stars did. Mike listened raptly to her impromptu astronomy lesson, asking, "Where'd you learn all that?"

"Read a few books, been to the planetarium, was in an astronomy club for a bit. Always like space and the stars and constellations. It's just a hobby of mine."

"It's a neat hobby."

She smiled at him... just as her stomach growled loudly, pulling a chuckle from Mike.

"Alright, come on, Charlie," Mike said, helping her up, "Let's go get dinner. I know a great little diner nearby."

xXxXx

"Hurry up, Charlie, or we'll be late!" Mike called from the living room, fidgeting with his tie.

"I'm hurrying! Gimme a minute! I don't often get a chance to get this dolled up!"

Mike huffed impatiently. His mother despised tardiness. _So do I for that matter. Early is on time, and on time is late. That's what she taught us._ He hadn't seen his sister in a few years now, as her and her husband moved to Sausalito right after their wedding. Mike tended to work holidays for guys who had families with children, so he usually missed Stoker family holidays… not that he really minded. The dinners tended to be huge family affairs attended by his stuffier and snobbier relations, those that looked down on his job and what he did, so missing them wasn't a big deal to him. _I hope this party isn't going to be like that. I just want to see Libby and George and then hopefully make myself scarce._

"Alright, I'm all ready to go, Mike. How do I look?" Charlie asked, emerging from the bedroom.

Charlie looked pretty damn good. The dress she'd bought was lovely, with a red bodice, long sleeves, and a v-neck. The skirt was a pattern of red, white, purple and gold, flecked with a metallic thread. A thick, short gold chain sat at her throat, and she also bore a set of gold bracelets and earrings.

"Well?"

"Charlie, you look absolutely lovely," Mike answered honestly.

"Why, thank you. You don't look so bad yourself."

"I had some help."

_It's why my tie is just the right shade of red to match that dress of yours._ Her smile was lighting up the room.

"Alright, well, come on. Let's get going. I hate being late," Mike said.

They made good time to his parents' house in Topanga, so he was more than a little surprised to see plenty of cars already there.

"Are-Are we late?" he asked.

"I don't think so," Charlie replied, "Your mom told me one in the afternoon. It's not quite one now."

"Well, then why are there so many cars here already?"

"How am I supposed to know? I ain't psychic."

"Did you hear the time right?"

"Of course I did."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!"

Mike felt something wasn't right, though he couldn't be sure what. He probably could have sat there in his truck all afternoon, hemming and hawing and debating, but Charlie was already beginning to look fed up with him. Still feeling uneasy, he helped her out of the truck.

"Hey, this is a pretty swanky pad your folks have."

"Charlie, really?"

"I wasn't sayin' anything really. I was just making an observation," she replied.

Mike looked around at the parked vehicles. He could see John's beat-up Land Rover, Roy's restored Porsche, Marco's '71 Charger, and Cap's sedan, grateful to see Chet's grubby old van was nowhere to be found, replaced by his much nicer '70 Chevelle. _Not that my truck is anything spectacular, but it's nice to see the guys make an effort for me._ Mike was still moving a little slower than he should be under ideal circumstances, but at least he'd been walking under his own power for a week or two. He shifted his grip on the gift he'd brought for his sister and brother-in-law and opened the door.

"There you are, Michael!" Mrs. Stoker chirped happily, "Oh, I just knew you'd be here right on time. Always on time if you're not early already. Charlotte, I'm glad you could make it, dear. It's so good to see you again. I do hope my Michael hasn't been too much trouble. Here, both of you just come with me. Libby and George are here in the other room. Oh, Michael, she's just going to be so happy-"

"Surprise! Happy birthday, Mike!"

Mike almost fainted right away, but at least he didn't drop Libby's present.

xXxXx

Charlie laughed at Mike's wide eyes and red face, but she felt bad almost immediately. _I shouldn't laugh at him being embarrassed. Shit, I probably shouldn't have helped embarrass him in the first place._

"M-my birthday?" Mike squeaked, "B-but it's only April! My birthday's not 'til June!"

"Yes, but if I tried to throw you a party in June, you'd get wise to it and make an excuse not to come," Mrs. Stoker explained, "so I took it upon myself to play a little trick on you, sweetie. Here, don't just stand there, Michael! Where'd your friends go? Yes, there they are! You know, your firemen friends are so lovely. They've just been so polite…"

The firemen of 51s approached, all grinning widely. Charlie took one more look up at Mike's red face and quickly suggested, "Why don't we go in this other room for a moment?" and led Mike away from the crowd without waiting for a response. Mrs. Stoker thankfully created a distraction for them to go.

"I'm sorry, Mike," Charlie apologized, "I didn't realize you'd be so embarrassed by all this."

"N-no, it's-it's fine. I just… there are just so-so many people in there," he stammered.

"Don't you worry about it," Cap told him, "Come to think of it, we all probably should have known better than to spring that on you."

The others apologized in turn, and Charlie watched the color in Mike's face fade to a normal color.

"Your mom's been really great, Mike," Roy piped up, "She's sure made us feel welcome in her house. Your dad, too. I think your mother had a monopoly on Joanne and Adora and Ginny earlier, but I think they're free now."

"Yeah, my mother has that way with people," Mike muttered.

Charlie opened her mouth to speak, but the three firemen's wives came in to offer their birthday wishes to Mike and whisked Charlie away to meet someone at the party. She turned out to be the wife of an important philanthropist who was interested in Charlie's work as a fire/rescue dispatcher.

"Forgive me, Charlotte," Mrs. Andersen said, "but why did a lovely young woman such as yourself choose to go into that line of work? It just sounds so stressful and depressing."

"It can be sometimes, but it's a very necessary position. People don't often think of who answers the phone when they call 911. I mean, before my brother became a fireman, I always thought it was a fireman at a station answering 911 calls, but it's not. It's someone like me, trying to get information from people on what's probably the worst day of their lives, trying to keep them calm so I can help them. It does take quite a bit of training and a good temperament to handle a job like this."

"Certainly, I can only imagine. But why take such a job at all?"

"Well… a paramedic saved me once, and so did a couple of firemen," she answered honestly, "I took the job to help people like me, to help people when they think no one can, when they don't even know someone is coming to help them. It feels good to help them."

"Yes, I know what you mean," Mrs. Andersen said, "You know, I'd like to talk with some of these firemen. I'd like to know more about their work."

"Well, these fine ladies have fireman husbands," Charlie suggested, "Ginny here is the wife of their captain at 51s, Hank Stanley. Adora's husband is Marco Lopez, a really great fireman, and Joanne's husband is one of the best paramedics there is, Roy DeSoto."

Adora spoke up, "Oh, I'm sure Marco Antonio would be more than happy to speak with you. Every shift he comes home and simply cannot stop talking about what happened. Our Soledad and Miguelito hang on every word. Wait here, I'll get him… and Roy and Hank, too."

Ginny stopped her, making the very-pregnant Adora sit while she retrieved their husbands instead. Charlie was pleased to note that the posh Mrs. Clarissa Tottensor-Andersen did not look down in any way on Sra. Adoración Casales Lopez. She had already seen some of the fancy guests giving odd looks to Marco and Adora, as if they were wondering how the help got invited to the party as guests. She hoped Mrs. Andersen's attitude would rub off on them. _I mean, look how cute and pregnant Adora is! How could anyone even think anything bad about her? Ooh, I dare someone to say the wrong thing…_ When Ginny returned with the three men, Charlie politely excused herself to join Chet, John, and Mike, the latter of whom had finally calmed enough to return to the party.

"Hey, Mike, can I get you a drink?" she asked.

"Sure… how about a 7&7?"

"Sure thing. Be right back."

The open bar wasn't full at all, so stepped right in and said, "I'll have a 7&7 and a… Jack and Coke, please."

"They both yours, sweetheart?"

Beside her was a young man, possibly her age, maybe a bit older, wearing a finely tailored suit with a matching silk tie and pocket square. His dark hair was set in a stylish cut with some kind of pomade. He was smirking at her with the kind of smirk she'd seen John and Chet direct at other women.

"One's for the birthday boy," she replied, not smiling back.

"Is that so?"

"Sure is."

"Y'know, it ain't quite his birthday yet."

"I'm aware."

"Look, sweetheart, I dunno about you, but I came to this shindig to have a good time. What say you and me sneak off for a little fun, huh?"

"I'm having plenty of fun without needing to sneak off."

"Come on, girl. The birthday boy is a real stiff. Looks about as fun as a wet paper bag. You come with me, sugar, and we'll have some real fun," he leaned in, his voice snide.

The young man laid his hand on her lower back. _Oh, that's it._ Charlie turned to face him with her most venomous glare, grinding out, "Tell me, mister, how do you like havin' teeth in your mouth?"

He blinked at her but did not remove his hand, so she went on, "Because if you don't stop touching me, I'll knock 'em all down your throat."

"Come on, now, I just-"

"I _said_, hands off, pal."

"Hey, there's no need to be a bitch about-"

"I'd be very careful with your language, too, because there are six firemen here, including the birthday boy and my big brother. One hint to them that you're bothering me, and it's curtains for all your nice, white teeth. So I'll tell you _one last time_… get your hands off me."

There was no argument this time, and she was pleased to see something like the fear of god in his eyes when he slunk away. She thanked the bartender politely and returned to the three firemen.

xXxXx

"See, Mike," Chet said as Charlie handed Mike his drink, "what did I tell ya? My baby sis knows how to handle dudes like that. Which line you use this time, sis?"

"Told him I'd knock his teeth down his throat, and if I didn't, one of you guys would for me."

John and Mike both snorted. Mike hadn't really been worried, of course.

"Mikey, there you are!"

"Libby!"

His elder sister looked almost no different than when he'd last seen her, save for a few strands of grey in her brown hair.

"Mikey, how are you?" she asked, beaming.

"Oh, I'm fine, Libby, just fine. What about you?"

"Mother said you were hurt at work," she stated, her eyebrows raised.

"It's nothing really. I just tore a back muscle. No smoke inhalation, no burns, nothing like that. I'll be back to work in a couple more weeks."

"Promise it's nothing big?"

"Promise."

"Good. You know, I worry about you, Mikey. You do a very dangerous job, and I hardly ever hear from you anymore. I just… I worry, especially when I see some of those big fires on TV."

"Well, I wouldn't be at a fire in Sausalito… or anywhere in Marin County for that matter," he reminded her.

"Stop it, you know what I mean. It makes me think of fires here in LA County, and then I start to worry about you, little brother."

"I know, I know. I just don't wanna worry you guys even more."

"Now that makes no sense at all."

Mike shrugged. Libby gratefully changed tack, asking, "Why don't you introduce me to your friends?"

He did so, saying, "This is one of our paramedics, John Gage. One of our linemen, Chet Kelly, and this is Chet's sister, Charlotte. Uh, guys, this is my big sister, Libby… uh, Mrs. Elizabeth Carson."

"Oh, please, Libby's fine…"

His sister was a consummate hostess, just like their mother, chatting away with them until she was called away by another guest. John, Chet, and Charlie hung back with Mike, all just people-watching. His parents' crowd was always interesting to observe. Mike was most fascinated by those who clearly did not want to be there but attended such functions out of some strange sense of social obligation. They generally hung around for an hour or two and then made up some excuse to leave. That left the diehard socialites who loved nothing more than to stand around, drink champagne, and gossip. Mike was usually among those who showed up (as a family obligation of course) and left early to avoid too much society, but today he was the guest of honor, so there was no way to get out today. _Maybe if I just hang out around the firemen and the wives and Charlie, no one will really bother me._

"Do you wanna go outside, Mike?" Charlie asked, "It's pretty stuffy in here."

"Absolutely," he replied, looping his arm through hers, "I thought you'd never ask."

xXxXx

"You alright, Chet?" John asked after Mike and Charlie headed outside.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I'm-I'm fine. Totally fine."

"Bullshit."

"Watch your mouth, Gage. This is a classy joint."

"Fine. How about 'horse hockey'?"

"Oh, yes, that's much classier."

"I'm tryin' here, okay? Come on now, what's wrong?"

_You've been doing so well with this tellin' the truth jazz, Chester B. Might as well keep up the streak._

"It's… it's Mike and Charlie," he admitted quietly.

"What about 'em?"

"They just seem awful close, I guess. Didja see how they walked outta here?"

"Yeah, but so what? They're friends. Friends do that kind of thing."

Chet pursed his lips. He'd never seen her that way with anyone else, so he figured it meant that there was something special between them. _That's just Charlie's side of the equation. I know she's weird, but Mike… well, he's never even mentioned a past fling or nothin' so there's that. Maybe he's weird like she is._ Joanne came over to whisk Johnny away, leaving Chet by himself. He cast his gaze down to the floor. _Here we go again. I'm always the wallflower… always have been._ The group over with the woman that had monopolized their time was laughing gaily, and the woman was very interested in whatever John was saying. Chet heaved a sigh, downing the rest of his drink.

"Chester, dear, would you give me a hand with something in the kitchen?" Mrs. Stoker asked, "All your friends seem a bit busy at the moment."

"Sure thing, Mrs. Stoker," he replied.

He followed her into the large kitchen, all old appliances but well taken care of, looking as new as the day they were bought. _Shit, if I had a kitchen this nice growing up, I might know how to cook, too._ Mrs. Stoker opened the oven, peeking inside, saying, "So, you're Charlotte's older brother?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, "for almost twenty-three years now."

The older woman smiled and went on, "Charlotte has been very kind to my son, very kind indeed. He's always been quiet and somewhat of a loner, my Michael, and he was never interested in dating. If I may tell you a little secret, Chester, there was a time when we thought he was simply interested in young gentlemen rather than young ladies-" Chet almost choked on his own spit- "but that wasn't the case, either. I just want you to know that he looks very happy with your sister, the happiest I've seen him since the day he graduated the fire academy."

"Yeah, I noticed," Chet replied, his voice soft, "Charlie looks really happy, too, which is good. Something pretty heavy happened to her about a year and a half ago, and for a long time she was pretty messed up. Mike… uh, Mike was there for both of us in a big way after everything went down. I gotta say, Mike's a pretty great guy."

"I've always known it."

"I guess mothers always do."

"We sure do," she agreed, checking the oven again, and asked, "Would you be a dear and take these cookies out for me? You are a fireman, after all, I'm sure it will be safer."

Chet did as he was asked, donning a pair of oven mitts (and a smile) and pulling out trays of cookies.

"All oatmeal raisin. They're Michael and Elizabeth's favorite. I made them special."

"Don't you have someone do stuff like that for you? Like cook and clean and everything?"

"I do, but I'm not helpless. It gets boring to let someone else do the work all the time. Besides, it's nice to do things for my children myself."

Chet felt his smile widen, remembering the birthday cakes his mother used to make for him and his siblings. _Even when we were struggling, we got a homemade cake for our birthday every year._ Mrs. Stoker stepped closer, her tone motherly as she told him, "Don't you worry, Chester. I saw your face when my son took your sister's arm. My husband and sons made it every time Libby's boyfriends came around. Sometimes, they still give it to her husband, and they've been married twenty years. Just don't worry. Michael will treat your sister like a queen. You can be sure of that."

"I know he does already. Charlie's been tellin' me how wonderful he is."

"I think I have to agree with her, though I am biased. Alright, well, I'll just take these off the sheet and plate them up. You go on in back to the party and enjoy yourself, Chester."

"Thank you, Mrs. Stoker. I will."

"Please. Call me Susan."

"Thanks, Susan."

He left the kitchen before she could further remind him of his own mother.


	6. Allowing Happiness

**_Quick notes: My fics, especially multichapters like this, are generally written months before they get posted. I like to handwrite everything before I type it up, so this story already has ending. I know exactly how long it is and how it's going to end. Some things do change as I go, when I realize that maybe a piece doesn't fit or I don't like the way I had it written, but it's usually all ready to go. This story is as much about Charlie as it is about Mike and everyone else. I have mad respect for Mike Stoker, actor. He was a real fireman, who worked his regular shifts and then came to work on his days off to film a television show we still enjoy today. I love watching him in the background, watching do what is literally his job, knowing that he really knows what he's doing._**

**_Happy holidays to everyone, and have my wishes for a fabulous, wonderful, and happy new year. _**

* * *

><p><em>The art of living does not consist in preserving and clinging to a particular mode of happiness, but in allowing happiness to change its form without being disappointed by the change; happiness, like a child, must be allowed to grow up. <em>

~Charles L. Morgan

Charlie took a deep breath of fresh air, perfumed with garden flowers. Blooms of every kind and color adorned the Stoker's backyard garden. There were little benches scattered about, sitting under trees and near rosebushes, and the ground was covered with dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves of the trees.

"Is this the same as when you were a kid, Mike?" she asked.

He nodded, "Yup. Mom's always loved flowers and gardening. She'd spend hours out here when I was a kid, just being with the flowers, working on a little victory garden she kept after the war was over. Can't spend as much time as she'd like out here anymore, but she comes out when she can."

"Well, it's awfully lovely, certainly nothing like I ever had. We had a window box at the apartment, and I think I remember one at the house we used to live in before dad died. That had enough room for a garden in back. I did love that window box, though. It was my own little project. I always tried to keep it stocked with the prettiest flowers I could get."

Charlie looked up at Mike. He was looking at his shoes, his face pink. _Damn, strike two for me. I just keep embarrassing him. Seems to be the theme of the day. Some friend I am…_

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad, Mike," she apologized sheepishly, "I just… well, I am Chet's sister. Reckon my mouth just gets itself into trouble. You know I don't care that your family's loaded. Sure, me and Chet and our brothers grew up a little poor, but we were never unhappy, really. Our mom was a regular Wonder Woman, made sure we had everything we needed from food to clothes. She loved us and took care of us, and that's all that matters."

He picked his gaze up from his shoes to meet hers. His cheeks were still tinged with pink.

"I'm… uh, I'm glad you were happy as a kid… you and Chet both," Mike told her quietly, "It's weird, though… I mean, I've sort of always wondered what you were like before I met you, before all that shit went down with Wheeler. No offense, but you were pretty much a wreck when I met you, Charlie. So, seeing you happy, knowing you were happy when you were a kid… well, I guess it kinda makes me happy, too."

Charlie smiled, feeling heat creep into her face, and took a sip of her drink; Mike followed suit.

"Happy early birthday, Mike," she said softly.

"Thanks, Charlie."

The two of them stood side by side there on the back porch, overlooking the garden, breathing in the clean, fresh air. Charlie watched butterflies and birds and the occasional bee, watched the clouds drift overhead, watched the sun shift the dapples on the grass as it slowly made its way across the sky. _Now this is what I call peaceful. I haven't felt like this in ages…_ With a jolt, she realized she was leaning against Mike. There was another jolt when she realized she didn't care.

"Mikey! Mikey, you'd better hurry up and come in if you want some of our cake!" Libby called.

"Well? You heard the woman, Mike. Cake time!"

"Alright, I see where your loyalties are. Come on…"

They linked arms once more as they went inside. Libby greeted them, "Mikey, you're gonna love the cake. Mom made it special for us. One side is chocolate for me, and the other is lemon for you. Well, come on…"

Libby took her little brother by the hand, ignoring his red face and sputtered protests, and dragged him toward a table with a large sheet cake.

"So… you and Stoker?"

Charlie jumped slightly and turned. Chet was giving her a very smug look.

"Me and Stoker what?"

"You know what."

"No… I don't. Lay it out for me."

"All I'm sayin' is that you and Mike there are lookin' awful cozy," Chet said, feigning innocence poorly, "You've just been sayin' what a 'perfect gentleman' he's being while you're stayin' there, and I may have been born at night, Charlie, but it sure wasn't last night. I know a few things."

"Yeah, a _few_ things. That's the truth alright."

"Hey, I'm tryin' to be nice here."

"Coulda fooled me."

Chet sighed, running a hand through his thick hair. Charlie sighed in turn, asking, "Look, what are you tryin' to say? Spit it out."

"Just… it's nice to see you happy again, sis," he muttered.

She smiled, and he continued, "Me and Mike's mom had a nice little chat, and she noticed that Mike looks really happy, too."

"Does he?"

"Sure does. I gotta say, there's not two people who deserve it more, who deserve to be more happy. Honestly, I mean that, sis."

"I know."

She stepped up and gave her brother a hug. When they pulled away, Chet spoke up, "Course, I should probably be pissed that Mike put the moves on my baby sister," back to his usual teasing tone. Charlie swatted at him, saying, "Oh, stop. Mike's just like me. He doesn't have moves. He wouldn't know moves if they hit him in the face with a fire ax."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Of course I am. I always am."

"And you never let me forget it. Anyway, I… I just wanted to tell you that, that you really do look happy again," Chet told her, wearing a soft, genuine smile, "Now, come on, I want some cake. I'm hungry."

xXxXx

Mike was pleased that no one tried to present him with any gifts for his early birthday. He never knew what to say when he got presents, and he figured his parents would probably get him something in June. _The guys probably will now, too. I just hope they let Cap or Roy or Marco pick it out. God only knows what Chet or John would do._ Charlie walked up with Chet, both wearing matching smirks. She looked ready to make her way over to Mike but was quickly intercepted by Ginny and Adora.

"This is a mighty fine party, Stoker," Cap remarked, stepping up to Mike's side.

"Yeah, Mom and Dad sure put on a good event. Always have."

"I've gotta say, I never knew you grew up like this. You don't act like you did."

"Well, you had to see the address in my file, Cap," Mike said.

"True. I guess I didn't connect it with the place you grew up. You'd already been working for some time when I came to 51s, had glowing recommendations from everyone you've ever worked with. I'll be honest with ya, I came here expecting your folks to be a little different. I suppose I should've known better."

"How's that?"

"Well, I do work with you three whole days a week."

Mike ducked his head, understanding the sentiment behind Cap's words. Cap spoke up again after a moment, changing tack, "So, how's that back of yours, Mike? Looks like you're movin' alright."

"Yeah, it's better. Still get some little twinges every now and again, but it's a helluva lot better than when it first happened, that's for sure. I should be back on in two more weeks."

"We'll be glad to have ya back, I can tell you that. Your temporary replacement is alright, gets the job done, seems to know what he's doing, but he's greener than spring grass."

"You don't think he'll put you guys in danger, do you?" Mike asked seriously, "Like by second-guessing himself or something?"

"No, I don't think so," Cap answered, "of course, you never can predict what's gonna happen in any given situation, but I think we'll be alright. He just… he's still learning to be an engineer, learning what his place is as an engineer, I suppose."

Mike nodded, saying nothing. He remembered when he first made the jump from lineman to engineer. He'd always wanted to do the job, had practically studied for the engineer's exam from the day his probationary ended. It was just tough to suddenly be the second-in-command at a station where you didn't really know anyone. _I'm sure Cap gets it. It must be way harder to be a captain and really be in charge of a bunch of guys._

"Just wanna be sure everything's alright at 51s."

"Don't you worry, Stoker, he's treatin' your engine just fine," Cap assured him.

"It's not the engine I worry about," Mike mumbled.

If Cap heard him, he didn't say anything about it. Mike just stood by Cap, watching the party guests mingle as they finished their cake. Clarissa Andersen had spent almost two hours now with Ginny, Roy, Joanne, Marco, and Adora, someone thoughtfully getting the very pregnant Adora a chair. Adora and Ginny had pulled Charlie back into the conversation with Clarissa. They seemed to be having a good time.

"It's nice havin' Charlie around," Cap remarked, "She's an awful nice kid."

Mike hummed in agreement. Cap continued, "I'm glad you agreed to let her stay with you, Mike. I didn't like the idea of you bein' alone right when you came back. If Charlie hadn't agreed to stay and help you, I'd've made you stay with us. Ginny and the girls would have loved fawning over you."

"I doubt that," Mike replied, recalling the first week, "I needed help doing everything."

"Yeah, I remember when I did that to my back. I was a miserable old goat."

Mike snorted quietly, pulling a chuckle from Cap. Clarissa's group started laughing.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go see what kind of fun Ginny's having over there. Care to join?" Cap asked.

"Might as well. I'm surprised good ol' Clarissa hasn't cornered me already."

"She sounds very interested in our work. Been askin' the wives plenty of questions, too."

"Well, Clarissa and her husband, Matthew, are rollin' in money. They both come from money and have plenty of their own, so they really like to give it away. The Andersens support a number of charities all around LA County. Clarissa's from Philadelphia, so I think she donates a lot back there, too. Real philanthropists, the Andersens. Sounds to me like Clarissa's lookin' for another charity to put their money behind."

Cap made a noise of interest as they approached Clarissa's circle.

xXxXx

"Oh, Mike, there you are," Clarissa chirped, "I thought maybe you've been avoiding me."

"Sorry, Clarissa. You just look like you've been having fun with everyone else."

"You should've just jumped right in, darling, you know you're my favorite. In any case, I've been having just the most delightful and interesting conversation with all the folks you know from the fire station, especially their wives. I tell you, these are the most long-suffering women I've ever met in my life."

"They sure do put up with a lot from us," Roy commented.

Charlie snorted quietly and looked at the full group around Clarissa, realizing the full 51s A-shift was surrounding the lively woman. Clarissa went on, "I've known you for quite a long while, Mike, about as long as you've been a fireman, and I was always intrigued as to your work. Well, I was born and raised in Philly- excuse me- Philadelphia, so that's where Ben Franklin founded one of the older fire departments in the US. I've seen many of the old firemarks, those metal plaques on buildings saying which fire company was supposed to respond if there was a fire. Anyway, I've just been wondering how my husband and I could help out you firemen and your families. I think I've gotten some good information today on a number of charities, and Matt and I will have a lot to think about when I get home tonight."

"Oh, that's not necessary," Cap said, "I mean-"

"It certainly is necessary Capt. Stanley," Clarissa replied, "The work you men do for us is incredible, and the sacrifice your families deal with is substantial, as well. Matt and I have always believed in using our wealth to help others. It's how we were raised. I can hardly think of a worthier cause than doing something to help all of you. If the Lawrences can give to the police funds, then there should be someone there to donate just as much to the firemen's funds. Capt. Stanley, I'd like to keep in touch with you and your wife, if that's alright…"

Charlie watched as Ginny traded information with Clarissa, who then excused herself to meet her husband when he got home from a business trip. She took the time to thank each of them for speaking with her and monopolizing their time at the party.

"Perhaps you could show me around the station sometime, Mike," Clarissa suggested, "I've never been to a fire station before, and I'd love to see everything."

"Sure thing. Just let Cap know when you'd like to come. If you're interested, I could also put you in touch with someone at the station here in Topanga Canyon, Station 69. Less of a drive for you."

"That Mrs. Andersen is a very nice person," Charlie told Mike after Clarissa left.

"She certainly is," Mike replied, "Clarissa is the only friend in my parents' social circle I actually like being around, both her and Matt. They're both about Libby's age and good people. Got good heads on their shoulders. I was tellin' Cap how much money they give to charities here and in Philadelphia."

"Well, I like her very much. I wasn't expecting to meet someone so nice. Say, we have a cousin in Philly. I wonder if she knows him…"

Mike gave a quiet laugh, "It's a pretty big city, Charlie."

"It wouldn't've hurt to ask if she knew Bob Kelly."

"What, is he important or something?"

"Kinda. He plays hockey there. Got drafted by the Flyers in '70. He's like a second cousin or somethin' like that, but we've met at a family reunion or two. Grew up in Ontario, so big reunions were the only times we could meet. Y'know, the Flyers are the defending Stanley Cup champs right now. Kickin' Toronto's ass in the quarterfinals. Game 4 is tonight, and the Flyers are up three games to none. I'm sure you heard Toronto beat the LA Kings two games to one just a week ago."

"I, uh, can't say I follow hockey too much to be honest."

Charlie felt her eyes go wide.

"Really? Oh, you don't know what you're missin'! Hockey's the greatest!"

She then proceeded to give Mike her Ice Hockey 101, guaranteed to ensure he would come to realize why hockey was the greatest sport on earth. _Seriously? How could anyone hate hockey? It's fast, it's action-packed, it's got the best comeback stories and underdogs… It really has everything._

"… and you just remind me when the next season starts to take you to a Kings game," she told him, "especially when the Flyers come to town. They're real bruisers, get called the 'Broad Street Bullies'. Should be good games."

"Remind me never to bring up hockey again if I'm not ready for a solid lesson."

Charlie laughed, "A girl's gotta get excited about something. Might as well be hockey."

"I guess so."

The firemen had now spread out through the party. Marco and Adora were seated, Adora working on a third piece of cake. Roy and Joanne had been pulled into a conversation with Mrs. Stoker, along with John. Cap and Ginny were out on the makeshift dancefloor with a number of other couples. Chet was over at the bar, flirting with the barmaid. _Probably using every fireman line he knows. I wish you luck, big brother. She looks like she's gonna be tough to crack._ She cast her gaze back over the dancing couples, trying to get her mindset back to 'fancy party' from 'hockey rant'.

"Hey, Charlie?" Mike asked.

His voice pulled her from her thoughts of catching the game that night, and she looked up at him.

"Would you… uh… do you wanna dance?"

_There he goes, turning pink again… but it kinda feels like I may be a little pink in the face myself._

"Sure… I'd like that… if you're feeling up to it, of course."

"I am. Just don't expect any dips or anything like that."

Charlie allowed herself to be led to the dancefloor, noting that Mike's embarrassed expression hadn't quite faded. _He's probably like me, hasn't done too much dancing, and to be dancing in front of people who know him and me-… Shit. I'll probably be embarrassed too if I keep thinking about it._ Mike, ever the gentleman, rested one of his hands across the middle of her back and held one of her hands gently in his other; she rested her free hand on his bicep. His hands were big and rough around hers.

"What's that smile for?" Mike queried softly.

"Nothing really… just remembering."

"Can I ask what?"

"Just something my mom used to say. You'll laugh."

"I won't. I promise."

"It was… it was about people's hands. She would've called yours honest, said they're honest from doing hard work."

Mike hummed in response, his lips quirking up in a small smile. Charlie continued, "Mom woulda loved you, you and all the guys at 51s. It's a shame she didn't get the chance to meet all of you. She was a lot like me, a crazy little spitfire. You have her to thank for me and Chet's wonderful personalities."

"I would've liked to know her," he replied, "especially if she was like you."

It was Charlie's turn to blush pink. They fell silent, simply swaying to the music. Charlie reveled in the feeling of her hand in Mike's, noting how it nearly swallowed hers. She was only eye level with his chest, somehow just noticing exactly how much taller he was. Mike's hand had slipped to the small of her back, pulling her a little closer.

She didn't notice that Chet was no longer flirting with the barmaid but was watching them dance, a soft smile on his face.

xXxXx

Mike and Charlie were both quiet on the way back to Mike's apartment. He wasn't entirely sure why Charlie was so quiet, but he was all too aware of the reasons for his own silence. _I don't know what got into me at that party, dancing with Charlie. I wonder what people are gonna say…_ He felt it was fairly common for people to worry about what people of thought of them, but he sometimes took it to an extreme, perhaps because he was just so different from everyone else. If they knew too much about his personal life, then they would think there was something wrong with him. By keeping reticent about his lack of experience, he could at least keep up appearances that he was normal. _Now everyone probably thinks me and Charlie are dating… but what else do they think? Oh, god, they probably think we've had sex, too…_ He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as they pulled up to the building.

_Of course people think we've had sex, because that's what normal people do. Only it just so happens we're a couple freaks, not that anyone really knows it._

"You know, Mike, if quiet wasn't your usual state, I'd ask why you were so quiet tonight," Charlie commented, "You _do_ seem bothered, though."

"You were pretty quiet on the way here yourself. Care to talk about it?"

She shrugged, "I just feel bad 'cause I didn't get you anything for your birthday."

"My birthday's not 'til June. You've got two months."

"Good, I'll have time to think about what to get the guy who has everything."

"I wouldn't I have _everything_, Charlie," he countered.

Charlie shrugged again, not speaking, tapping her manicured nails on the table in front of her. Mike watched her for a moment, then blurted, "Do you think people think we're dating?"

"Probably, after our little public displays of affection at that party today," she answered matter-of-factly, "At the very least, they think we're gonna start dating. At the worst, they think we've done a horizontal tango or two."

Mike almost choked on his own spit. _Just when I forget she's Chet's sister, she always finds a way to remind me._ She went on, "That's what people do, of course, especially people who have nothing better to do. They look at other people and think things which may or may not be true, then they try to convince themselves of the truth they want. I think your mother would be very happy if we were to start dating. My big brother probably would not. All that really matters is that you know the truth."

"That was very inspirational."

"Oh, I do my best. Did it work?"

"It would if I wasn't so crazy I couldn't stop thinking about it," Mike conceded.

"Well, it was worth a shot. Come on, let's change outta these fancy duds," she suggested, "I've been longing for sweats all day. Far more comfortable, wouldn't you agree?"

"Sure would."

He told her to go first, watching her head into the bedroom. John's words came unbidden into his head once more, his words about kissing Charlie, and for the first time in his life, Mike truly wondered what kissing someone that way would feel like.

* * *

><p><em><strong>I couldn't help but throw in the the connection to Broad Street Bullies and Bob Kelly. I'm a huge Flyers fan, and with them sharing a last name, I thought it would be a fun little thing to have, especially with hockey season in full swing right now. The Philadelphia Flyers indeed won the Stanley Cup in 1975... and they haven't won it since. <strong>_


	7. Trustworthy

**_We don't see too much of Charlie this chapter, so sorry about that. It's just a little filler chapter here, but I do like it if only because I love seeing Chet and Mike interact. They're just so different that it only makes sense they get along. And don't worry, we'll get back to plenty of Charlie next chapter. I promise._**

* * *

><p><em>The chief lesson I have learned in a long life is that the only way you can make a man trustworthy is to trust him; and the surest way to make him untrustworthy is to distrust him and show your distrust. <em>

~Henry L. Stimson, "Memorandum on the Effects of Atomic Bomb," to Harry S. Truman, September 11th 1945

"Hey, Mike, Chet wants to talk to you," Charlie announced, holding up the phone.

"Me? What about?"

She just shrugged, so Mike pushed himself off the couch to take the call.

"What's up, Chet?"

"_Nothin' much. Just know Charlie's got a day tomorrow, so I figured I'd see if you wanted to grab lunch. Haven't seen ya since that party at your folks'."_

"Uh… sure. I've got a doctor's appointment at eleven, so I could probably meet you around noon. Gonna see if I can finally get back to work."

"_Really? Man, I sure hope everything works out for ya tomorrow. I really do. Hopefully our lunch can be celebratory,"_ Chet told him, _"Where ya wanna go?"_

"Doesn't matter to me. You choose."

"_Alright, then, why don't we go to Lou's?"_

"Sounds good to me. I like Lou's. I'll meet you there."

"_Perfect. See ya then, Stoker!"_

"What was that about?" Charlie asked.

"Chet wants to have lunch with me tomorrow."

She made a face of surprise but said nothing. Mike had to say he was a bit surprised himself… and mildly concerned. The party was only five days ago, the past Saturday, so for Chet to say it had been a while was fairly odd. _It must be something important, then… but what?_ He supposed he could rack his brain for the rest of the day trying to figure it out and decided to quit while he was ahead. Mike chose to work on some of his stretches instead, wanting to be in top shape for his physical tomorrow.

"Well, Stoker," Morton stated after putting him through his paces, "You've made remarkable progress in the past two weeks."

"Does that mean I can go back to work?"

"I said remarkable, not miraculous," Morton replied, "You still need at least another week to heal fully. You were wincing still during your stretches, and don't lie to me and say you weren't because I saw it. Look, I wanna get you back to work as soon as possible, but I don't want you aggravating this injury and making it worse. I'll look you over again in a week, and we'll go from there."

"But, Doc, I feel fine, I-"

"You had a substantial tear in one of your lumbar muscles," Morton spoke over him, "You need to give it time to heal properly, or you'll hurt it worse than the first time. Think of this as paid vacation and go do something fun and relaxing, Stoker."

Mike definitely didn't pout, not in the hospital and not in his truck on the way to the diner and not in the diner, no matter what Chet said he was laughing about.

"If anyone should be upset, it's me," Chet told him after he explained the results of his appointment, "That's at least another week or two I gotta go without your spaghetti or fried chicken."

"Boy, it's sure nice to be missed."

"Aw, you know what I mean. We really do miss you, though. It was good to see you at that party the other day… and what a swanky party it was. Your mom was really nice to all of us."

"She probably hosts about ten parties a year, so she usually is."

"No, I mean, like, _really_ nice. Not fake nice like I was expecting. No offense," he added quickly.

Mike chose to say nothing, so Chet continued, "Look, your mom sorta pulled me aside at the party to talk to me, and… well, she told me you looked happier than she'd seen you in years, and I told her that Charlie looked really happy, too."

"Hey, Chet, listen-"

"Wait, I'm not done. I talked to Charlie after you two came back inside and told her what your mom said. And-and I told her that there's… there's not two people who deserve to be happier."

Chet's face was red at this point, and he was avoiding Mike's gaze, so the latter spoke up, "I'll agree with you on one, but not the other."

"What?" Chet blinked at him.

"I'll certainly agree with you that Charlie deserves to be happy, but I think you deserve it more than me, Chet," Mike explained, "Especially because you've had so much unpleasantness in your life. You've lost your parents, your brother… you could've lost your sister and one of your good friends, too. I'd say you could use the happiness more than I could."

"Have I ever told you what a good friend you are?" Chet asked quietly, his usual joking tone muted.

Mike offered him a good-natured smile, saying, "I could hear it more often."

Chet huffed out a laugh. Mike was grateful for the arrival of the food to break up the awkwardness a little, starting to ask Chet about things going on at the station, trying to get some more information on his temporary replacement.

"So, how's Bill Pender holdin' up?" he asked nonchalantly.

"He's alright. Kinda green for an engineer, but I guess even you had to start somewhere," Chet told him around mouthfuls of food, "Cap said he's got a good record at his other stations as a fireman. I think he just needs some to adjust to the new position, y'know? Seems to know his stuff, anyway. I heard he tested pretty high. He's not you, though, and we can feel it on the line."

Mike queried, "Has he done anything to make you feel unsafe?"

"Nah, it's not that. It's just… different, a little slower. Me and Marco are used to you, and this Pender is just a hair slower doin' everything. Not dangerously slow, but enough that we know. You should come down to the station and meet him. That might make you feel better about everything, Mike."

"You just want me to come down and make everyone lunch."

"It sure wouldn't hurt."

Mike chuckled and bit into his sandwich.

"Anyway," Chet spoke up after a moment, "I need your help with something."

"Sure thing. What is it?"

"Well, tomorrow is Charlie's birthday, and-"

"Tomorrow? Why didn't you say anything before?"

"Well, she was always around at the party, and besides, it was _your_ party. I didn't wanna talk about someone else's birthday at your party."

"But, Chet, I didn't plan any-"

"Look, she's not one for bein' fussed over. I just… I planned a nice dinner at this Italian restaurant she likes. I've got it all sorted out. They've got a nice upstairs room I rented out so all they guys and the wives and kids can come out. Paid for by me, of course."

"That's gonna be expensive, Chet. I could help you out."

"Nah, I've got that taken care of. All I need you to do is make sure she gets there. It's also sort of a thank-you to everyone for bein' so good to us after everything that's happened."

"Well… that's awful nice of you, Chet."

"Of course it is. I don't know why everyone always acts so surprised when I'm a good guy."

"I'm pleadin' the Fifth on that."

Chet stuck his tongue out at Mike, making him laugh. They finished up their lunches and ordered dessert, each getting a slice of pie. Chet snickered when the waitress walked away.

"Boy, Charlie sure was right," he smirked.

"Right about what?"

"She basically said you were oblivious when it comes to women. Hell, your mom said the same thing. Y'know," Chet leaned in and lowered his voice, wearing a smirk he usually reserved for taunting John, "your mom even told me you're so oblivious that for a while, she thought maybe girls weren't what you interested in."

Mike felt his face grow instantly hot and knew it was as red as his engine. _I need to have a _long_ talk with my mother about things she's not allowed to say to my coworkers._

"It's okay, Mike, I thought it was funny."

"Clearly," Mike mumbled.

Tension hung over the two of them. Mike was tempted to get up and grab the fire extinguisher for his face. He heard Chet shift in his seat.

"I'm sorry, Mike," he said at last, "I didn't mean anything by it… and I didn't tell anyone else, I promise. I just… open mouth, insert foot."

Mike didn't trust himself to speak just yet. _Calm down. This is just Chet. It's what he does. He wasn't being mean-spirited._ That was the biggest thing about Chet Kelly he used to misunderstand. Chet liked to play pranks and give people a hard time over little things, so Mike initially thought he was mean and rude, bordering on malicious when he'd target John for an extended period of time. Mike never voiced this opinion, and Chet never played any pranks on him (because messing with the engineer was just off limits). When they were on a bad MVA call about six months after all being stationed at 51s together, Mike saw just how dedicated Chet was and how good he was at his job. He watched the lineman sit with a little girl and keep her calm while Mike and John worked on getting her mother out of the car, carefully keeping her mind off the noises of her mother being rescued. Then, when John was down with that monkey flu, Chet was so worried about him he was practically driven to distraction. It was then he started to realize that Chet was never _mean_-spirited, just high-spirited. He liked getting people to laugh, often at someone else's expense, but when it came to serious matters, he was all business.

"It's alright, Chet," Mike finally told him, "I'm just… I'm not used to people knowing embarrassing things about me… especially the guys I work with, and certainly not the Phantom."

"I'll be sure to tell the Phantom to lay off."

Mike took a moment to scrutinize Chet. He seemed earnest. _Chet's okay. You know that, Mike. This is okay for him to know. All part of being friends… of trusting each other._

"I'd appreciate it."

xXxXx

Chet finished his pie in record time, which was good because he was in no way prepared for Mike to ask him, "Say, you wanna come to my place for a beer?"

"Uh… sure."

No one at Station 51 had ever been to Mike's place, not even Cap. Chet knew their engineer lived in an apartment not too far from the station and nearer to the beach than anyone else, but he never invited anyone over. Marco, Roy, and Cap all had houses, so they were obvious choices for parties. John and Chet both had apartments, but they had enough room to invite the guys over for a beer and to watch a game. It hadn't really occurred to Chet until that moment.

He followed Mike to his apartment building after finishing dessert and coffee. _Sandy Ridge? They always give these places the dumbest names._ The engineer lived on the second floor of the seven-story building, and his apartment was exactly what Chet expected. Where Chet's was vaguely organized chaos, Mike's was nearly surgical in its order. Not one single thing looked out of place.

"Hey, where's all Charlie's stuff?" Chet asked.

"In the bedroom," Mike replied, his voice quiet.

"Oh, that makes sense. Keeps things out of the way."

He turned to find Mike standing there wringing his hands, his face red as a tomato again. Chet stepped closer, asking, "Mike, are you alright?"

"Listen, Chet, I- there's nothing physical going on between me and your sister," Mike blurted out, "I know you probably think there is because that's what people think normal people do, but there's not. I mean, we've been sharing the bed because I wouldn't let her sleep on the couch because I thought it would be rude to make her sleep on the couch so I-I suggested she share the bed with me and she already had to help me in the shower so how much more awkward could it be and-"

"Whoa, calm down, Mike," Chet interrupted, barely able to follow Mike's words, "It's-it's okay. I know there's nothing happening like that."

"But-… I mean, you never thought-?"

"Charlie's my baby sister. It's my job to know her dating life and police the creeps, so I've noticed a pattern or two. The major pattern is that she just doesn't really date period," Chet told him, "Wheeler was only her…second boyfriend, and the first only lasted about six months. Wheeler was two. She's never talked about wantin' to get married or have kids or any of that jazz. She's never even dropped a 'climb-him-like-a-tree' line. I've pretty much always known she's different than most people."

"And you're okay with that? With her being different like that?" Mike queried.

"Hell yeah! I'd much rather she be completely uninterested in sex than goin' out and spreadin' her legs for whatever guys asks," Chet said honestly, "The day I figured it all out was probably one of the best days of my life. Now, do I really understand it? No. I think sex is great, so I don't really understand why anybody wouldn't want to do it… but I respect it."

The look Mike was giving him was odd. It looked like a mixture of disbelief, mistrust, and relief, and Chet wasn't quite sure what it all meant.

"You mean that? You… you really respect it?"

"Of course, Mike, why-?"

And then he got it. Chet laughed so loud and so abruptly he was sure it disturbed the neighbors. _It's so obvious! How did I miss this?_ Mike's face was still red when Chet finally stopped laughing, wiping tears from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mike. I just… I can't believe I didn't see it before now, why you and Charlie get along so well. The two of you are exactly alike, aren't you? I mean, you're not interested in sex, just like her. It's why you've never talked about havin' a girlfriend or goin' on any dates or bein' interested in any women. I always thought you just didn't wanna talk about it, but… man, I can't believe I didn't realize it before right now, what with knowin' Charlie's the same way."

He really wasn't bothered by Charlie's disinterest in relationships, but he did worry that she would be lonely because of it. _She's my baby sister, after all. I've always just wanted her to be happy._ After all the unpleasantness they'd been through, happiness was the one thing he wished her more than anything else. Knowing there were other people like her was wonderful, probably even moreso for Charlie. Looking at Mike, he saw relief in the older man's face. _He's gotta be way more relieved than I am about all this. I wonder if he thought he would be lonely forever… if there were other people like him… if everyone would think he's a freak… Worse, did he think we'd abandon him if we found out? Dammit, Mike, you know better than that._ This was important. Chet knew this was important to Mike, that Mike was putting an incredible amount of trust in him, and he would make damn sure Mike knew that trust wasn't misplaced. He stepped up and clapped Mike on the shoulder, saying, "Hey, man, I was promised a beer. Let's get to it, pal."

_Better just get back to regular business. It'll let him know everything's alright, that I'm not mad or freaked out or anything like that._

"You, uh… you won't tell anyone?"

"I know I've got a reputation for bein' loose-lipped, but a secret left with me is safer than if it was in Fort Knox. I promise, Mike."

"I really appreciate that, Chet. Really."

"I know it, babe. Now, come on. Beer me."

"Beer. You got it," Mike smiled.


	8. When to Go Away

_To know when to go away and when to come closer is the key to any lasting relationship. _

-Doménico Cieri Estrada

Charlie had never been happier than she was on her birthday in 1975, surrounded by friends and family for dinner. Everyone had a wonderful night, especially the children, who were as amused as the adults with Chet's stories of Charlie's childhood antics.

"Now, Soledad, Miguelito, what do we say to Tia Charlie?" Adora asked her children as they prepared to leave at the end of the evening.

"_Feliz Cumpleaños_, Tia Charlie," they chimed in unison, grinning.

"Aw, _muchas gracias_," Charlie replied, "I'll see you around."

"We had a great night, Charlie," Marco told her as Adora ushered the children toward the door, "I'm glad you had a wonderful birthday."

"Well, it wouldn't have been as wonderful if all of you weren't here."

The fireman smiled, saying, "It's just always nice for all of us to get together like this, to see everyone enjoying themselves. I gotta say, Chet's a really great guy to do all this for you."

"Don't I know it. Best brother there is."

"Yeah, he's a pretty good amigo, too. Anyway, happy birthday, Charlie. I better get this bunch home."

"Sure thing, Marco. Thanks for coming with Adora and the kids."

She gave him a big hug before he left. The DeSotos left not too long after, needing to get their children home to bed, too, shortly followed by the Stanleys and their girls, leaving Chet, John, Mike, and Charlie at the restaurant.

"Thanks, Chet," Charlie told her brother, "This was the best birthday a girl could ask for. I can't believe you planned it all yourself."

"Boy, I can sure tell how grateful you are, crackin' jokes like that."

"Aw, you know I really mean it. You didn't have to do all this for me."

"You deserve it," Chet said, smiling, "My baby sister deserves the best, and I intend to make sure she gets it."

_That's my big brother._ She grinned and pulled him into a big hug. _Always there to make sure I'm happy._ She ignored the argument John and Mike had with Chet over him paying the whole bill, a fight Chet eventually lost when both Mike and John shoved some bills into Chet's hand despite his protests.

"Alright, well, whenever you men are done arguing about money," she called over, "there's a young lady over here who like to spend some of her own money on drinks in a bar. Nice drinks, like fancy cocktails."

"I think that can be arranged," John smirked, "I know a place over on-"

"No offense, John, but I think I know the best place. Drinks are on me," Mike said, "It's a nice joint, and I know the barmaid."

"Old flame?" John asked suggestively.

"Old friend. Name's Angie. I've known her since were little kids, but today she makes the best cocktails in the LA County area."

"Hey, is that the same Angie you told me about a few weeks ago?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah, uh, Angelica Mangiaccio. Everyone just calls her Angie."

John squinted, "Mangiaccio? Why-? Do I know that name? I think I know that name."

"Yeah, it sounds familiar," Chet agreed.

"Oh, her dad was a fireman, Anthony Mangiaccio, but people called him Tony, I remember. He was killed at a fire when we were fourteen in '55," Mike replied, "Tony was a great guy. He was actually the guy who inspired me to be a fireman."

"Really? I never knew that," Chet stated.

"I never mentioned it."

Charlie smirked to herself, secretly reveling in the fact she knew something so simple that the others didn't. _I might know more about Mike than anyone else at this point._ They all hopped into their respective vehicles and headed to the bar Mike suggested. It was more of a cocktail lounge than a bar, a classy-looking one called the Blue Macaw. The interior was filled with small, short tables lit with candles, squat chairs with plush blue coverings, and dim lamps with blue shades that hung from the ceiling. Smoke hung low over the room while people in fine suits and dresses sat conversing in quiet voices. Mike led them over to a table close to the bar, offering the barmaid a wave.

"Is _that_ Angie?" John asked in a loud whisper.

"Yup, that's Angie."

The woman he'd beckoned over was no less than gorgeous. Her eyes and hair were dark, her hair long and stylish. She was busty and curvy, with a small waist and big hips and everything somehow in proportion. Angie grinned widely, squealing, "Mikey Stoker! _Oh_, I haven't seen you in _ages_! Here, you sit and tell me how you've been! Who are your friends?"

"Oh, this is John Gage, a paramedic I work with at 51s. This is Chet Kelly, and Chet's sister, Charlie. We're out celebrating her birthday."

"Really? Well, happy birthday, Charlie!" Angie told her, "I'll fix you a drink on the house, something good. What can I get for the gentlemen?"

She returned a few minutes later with Mike's 7&7, Chet's Manhattan, John's Jack & Coke, and a drink for Charlie she called a Sloe Gin Fizz. It was fruity and sweet and, well, fizzy. Angie sat with them for a few minutes to catch up with Mike.

"How have you been, Mikey?" she asked, "I haven't seen you really since me and Todd's wedding, and that was nearly ten years ago now."

"I know, I know… Things just got kinda crazy… especially lately."

"Means you've been a fireman for more than ten years," Angie commented.

"Sure does. Say, did I ever tell you I made the jump to engineer a few years back?"

"No, you didn't! Good for you, Mikey! I always knew you would, and Daddy, too. He said it from day one, said you'd be the best engineer a station would ever have when you made it."

"Probably 'cause I pestered him with every question about engineering I could think of."

"Probably 'cause you pestered him with very specific questions from the old copies of _Fire Engineering_ that would strategically disappear and reappear in our house," she quipped, "I'll bet you started studying for that engineer's exam from the day your probationary finished."

"Well, you'd win that bet, Angie," he agreed.

Angie soon pulled him over to the bar she was working from so they could speak while she worked. Charlie watched them for a moment, both laughing and smiling, clearly happy to see one another again. She supposed she ought to be jealous or something, seeing Mike chatting with an obviously gorgeous woman, but she wasn't; she was actually strangely happy. She took another sip of her drink.

"So, sis, you gonna maybe come home any time soon?" Chet asked.

"Hmm? What's that?"

Chet huffed with a smirk, saying, "Boy, you sure got it bad, huh?"

She blinked at him, causing him to snicker but not explain himself. After she glared at him, he told her, "Y'know, you said Mike was oblivious, but you're just as bad as he is. He's head over heels about you… and I think the feeling goes both ways, Charlie."

"Come on, Chet," John piped up, "Leave the girl alone. It's her birthday. She's entitled to be oblivious if she wants."

"Oh, thank you, Johnny, that was very helpful," she deadpanned.

"Hey, I just do what I can. Always here to help."

She reached out and swatted him in the arm, perhaps a little harder than necessary. Both firemen laughed. Charlie pouted, "You guys aren't very nice, pickin' on a girl on her birthday."

"Well, what if I go get you another drink?" John asked, "Would that cheer up the birthday girl?"

"Maybe. Sure wouldn't hurt."

John smirked, rising from his chair to stand by Mike and Angie at the bar. Chet and Charlie watched his back, and when he reached the bar, Chet sighed.

"What is it, Chet?"

"It's just-… I dunno," Chet muttered, scrubbing at his face, "Maybe it's just me bein' an overprotective big brother, but I just want what's best for you, want you to be happy. You know that."

"Yeah, you know I do. Come on, out with it. What's buggin' you?"

"Mike-… well, he's really into you, sis."

"And that's a problem?" she asked.

"No… but… now, Mike's a good guy, don't get me wrong. He's the best there is, but… I mean, you were only gonna stay there a week or so, until the doc cleared him to be by himself. Then, when he was cleared, he asked you to stay another week, right? To help out with stuff he couldn't do yet?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So… what are you still doing there?" Chet asked quietly.

There was no malice in his voice, no anger or suspicion. Only genuine curiosity. It certainly made Charlie sit back and think about it, though. _What am I doing there still? He doesn't need me… or does he?_ She met her brother's gaze. He went on, "I'm not saying I disapprove or anything like that, but I think maybe you guys have too much of a good thing too fast."

"Come on, Chet, nothing like that happened-"

"I'm not sayin' it did. You forget. I know you. I've known you for twenty-three years now. And now, I know a little more about one Mike Stoker, so I know that's he's just like you. I'm just sayin' that maybe you guys oughta back off for a bit, give each other some room to think about things, about what's goin' on, try to figure out if you both want the same things and stuff like that. I'm not sayin' I don't want you to be happy, or that I don't want you to see Mike like that, I'm just sayin' that just because you're alike doesn't mean that you'll get along long term in a-a relationship."

Charlie said nothing, just letting Chet's words sink in. It wasn't the first time she'd had such thoughts, but it was the first time she'd heard someone else voice them. _He's right, though. I didn't think about it before recently, but I guess we did get a little ahead of ourselves._ After a moment, she spoke up, "Chet, that's about the smartest thing you've ever said."

"I get good ideas sometimes. I didn't even hurt myself thinkin' about it."

"A'right, Johnny Gage returns!" John said, coming up behind them, "I got you another drink, too, Chet, same thing ya had. And for the birthday girl, Angie made ya somethin' special. She called it, uh, a Singapore Sling. Looks pretty good, actually…"

Mike sauntered over after a few more minutes, smiling contentedly. Charlie felt her stomach give a nervous flip, thinking on what her brother had said.

"Sorry about that," he said, "Just haven't seen her in years, so we had some catching up to do. I'm all yours for the rest of the night, though. Promise."

They slipped into easy conversation. Mike seemed more relaxed than ever, lounging in his chair, drink in hand, laughing at everyone's dumb jokes and cracking a few of his own. _John and Chet oughta recognize the gift Mike's given them, being this relaxed and open around them while he's not at work._ Her stomach gave that nervous flip again.

"I just wanna thank you guys for making this such a nice birthday," Charlie told them as they headed out of the Blue Macaw, "Really, I woulda been happy with a simple cake at the station."

"You deserved it, like I said," Chet replied, "You're my baby sister, and you deserve the best."

"Hell, you deserve it for not bein' Chet."

"Shut up, Gage. I was tryin' to have a moment."

John snickered, ducking the playful swing directed his way. Chet bid Charlie farewell, giving her a big hug, and drove off in his black cherry Chevelle, followed by John in his Rover.

"Well, we better get home. I got work in the morning," Charlie spoke up.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Here, lemme help you up…" Mike offered.

The following Monday, Mike had a doctor's appointment Charlie knew would be the one that decided when he would be able to return to work, and she hoped it would be good news for him. She was off that day, so she fixed up some sandwiches while she waited for him to come back. _I really do want it to be good news. It'll soften the blow… at least I think it'll be a blow._ He was grinning when he returned to the apartment.

"Well, don't you look happy," she remarked.

"I am," he told her, his grin bright, "Doc Morton said I'm good to go back to work when the shifts start up again later this week. I already took Cap the paperwork."

"Yeah? Oh, that's wonderful, Mike!"

"Yeah… yeah, it is. It really is."

He was pacing the living room, full of excited energy, his grin not fading.

"You look ready to run a marathon there, pal. Take a breath. Have a sandwich."

"It's just… I'm excited to be gettin' back to work," Mike explained, taking the food but not sitting, "I haven't taken sick time since my first year as a fireman, so it's been drivin' me kinda crazy… though, honestly, if it wasn't for you bein' here and keepin' me company, I probably woulda been a whole lot worse."

"It was nothing," she replied quietly, feeling her stomach turn nervously.

"No, it was-… thank you, Charlie. I don't know if I ever told you that."

"You're welcome."

The silence that fell over them was less than comfortable. Mike looked around the living room, his gaze settling on a spot by the couch. Slowly, he said, "You… you packed your stuff."

"Yeah… yeah, I did."

He turned his eyes on her, his expression unreadable. Charlie cleared her throat, saying, "I'm, uh… I'm moving back in with my brother… because you don't need me anymore."

"But, Charlie-"

"You haven't needed me since that first week ended and Doc Morton said you were okay to be home on your own," she continued over him, "but I stayed because you asked me to, and I guess I wanted to myself. Maybe I thought you needed me still. Maybe you did, too. We've never met people like us before, and we got so close so fast that you got scared of me leaving. I think you _thought_ you needed me, and I'm here to tell you that you don't. You don't need me, Mike, not for anything, no matter what you think… so I'm moving back in with Chet."

Mike's blue eyes were wide and hurt. Something clenched in Charlie's chest. She took a deep breath and told him, "Look, this doesn't mean that I don't like you or don't wanna be friends… or that I wouldn't be open to-to there being something more between us. I just-… I feel like you've gotten… maybe a little dependent on me being around, and no one should be dependent on another person for their happiness. Even people like Cap and Ginny, for as long as they've been married, they don't need each other every minute. They can be apart and be happy. Shit, it's not healthy for two people to be around each other every minute of every day. People that are together need time away from each other every so often, and I think we need that, too. We need to get out from bein' up each other's ass for a bit and think about what we want."

Mike's lips quirked up briefly, though he still didn't look happy, the smirk quickly fading. He muttered something, his lips moving almost soundlessly. Charlie started to tell him to repeat himself, but he beat her to it, saying, "I-… I'm just-… I thought maybe since we were alike, and you seemed to-…"

He broke off, running a hand through his hair, a flush creeping into his face. He cleared his throat, and in a low voice, he told her, "Y'know, for the first time in my life, I've wondered what it would be like to kiss someone."

Charlie's stomach gave a funny little flip. _Can't say the thought hadn't crossed my mind._ She still couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes, choosing instead to look at her socks, Chet's words sounding in her head.

"I just think taking a big step back from this would be good for us, give us time to really think about what we want from life and-and a relationship. Just because we're alike doesn't mean we're on the same page," she paused, taking another deep breath, "Then, if after that you're still wondering what it's like to kiss someone like that… you can give me a call. We're grown-ups. I think we can figure it out."

Mike finally looked up, meeting her gaze.

"You… you really meant that?" he asked softly.

"Sure do."

The color in Mike's face faded to pink, and he cast his eyes back down to his lap. His brow was slightly furrowed, fingers tapping against his thigh, lips pursed. _He's thinkin' so hard I'm surprised there's not smoke comin' outta his ears._ She waited nervously, wringing her hands. After a long moment, Mike spoke up, "Okay… okay, Charlie. That all makes sense when I, uh, when I think about it rather than just-just reacting like I did. You're right. A-A step back would probably be good."

"I _am_ smarter than I look, y'know."

"Smarter than Chet, that's for sure."

Charlie snorted, "I dunno, Chet's got some pretty good ideas when he puts his mind to something. Though I will say that I got all the good looks in the family."

"I think I'd agree to that."

The silence this time was pleasant and comfortable as they smiled at each other and finished their lunches.

"Say, Charlie," Mike suggested, "you wanna go to the beach? It's a nice day, and since you're gonna move back in with your brother… well, let's have one last hurrah to bein' up each other's ass."

"Sure. That sounds like a plan to me… as long we pack some beers and food."

"I think that can be arranged," Mike smiled.

Charlie felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. Her smile widened.

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><p><em><strong>One more chapter to go, folks. <strong>_


	9. Love is the Thing

**_This chapter has strong language and mentions animals dying in a brush fire._**

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><p><em>Love is the thing that enables a woman to sing while she mops up the floor after her husband has walked across it in his barn boots. <em>

-Author unknown, as printed in _The Hoosier Farmer_

Charlie hated brushfires now more than ever. _Some jackass drops a cigarette butt or can't put out a fire right or dropped a spark from a chain or an engine, and now my brother and friends gotta go out and fight it, riskin' their lives more than usual. If they find the numbnuts that did this, they better not let me get ahold of him._ She paced the break room of the dispatch headquarters, officially off-duty but too worked up to go home. Nobody was happy about the situation, of course, but everyone there understood why Charlie was so agitated.

"Why don't you head home, Kelly?" her supervisor, Ted Bowdoin, offered, "Some rest and a good meal might calm you down some."

"This fire being over would calm me down some."

"It would calm all of us down. Look, why don't you go visit someone, go to someone's house? You're good friends with the guys your brother works with and their wives. I'm sure those women could use some company. Didn't Marco Lopez's wife just have a baby a few months ago?"

"Yeah, in early May… May 5, you believe that?"

Adora had her third child (and second boy) in record time, barely getting to the hospital before she was holding him in her arms. Between Adora's mother, Marco's mother, and Marco and Adora's older children, there was no shortage of people who could help with little Ignacio, but Bowdoin had a point. Adora was probably worrying her head off with the new baby.

"S'pose you got a point."

"S'pose I do. I'm just worried you'll wear a hole in the floor."

Charlie made a quick call to the Lopez house and headed over, greeted by an excited Soledad and Miguel and a weary Adoración.

"Thank you for coming over, Charlie," Adora told her, cradling Ignacio, "With Marco at this big brushfire… well, I try to be positive, but _mi niños_ know I'm worried. Soledad's old enough now to really understand what's going on, and I can tell her more in terms of what Marco's doing at work. It's just difficult…"

Charlie helped entertain the children while Adora caught up on housework and her and Marco's mothers worked in the kitchen, the old women occasionally arguing in Spanish about one thing or another. One would emerge from the kitchen every so often to dote on the children and even Charlie (or Carlita, as they called her), complaining they were too skinny and needed more to eat.

"Oh, Charlie," Adora spoke up, bringing Charlie over to Sra. Lopez, "I called Joanne, and I'd really appreciate it if you could bring some of this food over to her and the kids. The _abuelas _are concerned they don't have enough to eat, as usual. Anyway, Joanne's waiting for you. I really appreciate you coming over today, Charlie."

"Oh, you're very welcome. I think it did us both some good."

Sras. Lopez and Casales were arguing in rapid Spanish as she left, laden with plates of food for the DeSotos. Joanne was pacing when she arrived, the children playing innocently on the floor. She told Charlie, "It's just so difficult sometimes, especially with the way the news covers these sorts of things these days. The stations always wanna have the most exciting news coverage, but the way they cover it they act like there aren't people out there absolutely losing their heads over what's happening there. I mean really, you'd think they'd be a bit more considerate…"

Charlie was then treated to a lengthy diatribe on how the media handles fire coverage and what they should do instead, then watched the children while helping Joanne with some housework. Ginny Stanley brought her girls over to Joanne's around dinner, bearing a few covered dishes, followed shortly by Adora and her children. _They all have each other… always. Did they even call each other? Firemen may be brothers, but their wives are sure sisters, too._ Charlie excused herself, ready to head home, though she was unsure of what she would do once she got there.

"Charlie, you look exhausted. When did you sleep last?" Ginny asked, "Didn't you work a midnight last night?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"A midnight? Then- Good lord, Charlie, you've been up for more than twenty-four hours now!" Joanne exclaimed.

"Twenty-four hours?" Adora jumped in, "_Dios mio_, why aren't you sleeping?"

"Well, I've just been so worked up, I couldn't sleep. Honestly, I don't even feel sleepy."

The mothers present were having none of it, and she quickly found herself ushered into Joanne's spare bedroom for at least a quick nap. It was more than a nap. She was only woken when Joanne came in at about two in the morning, shaking her gently.

"Wha-? Is everyone-?"

"Chet's at Rampart," Joanne told her calmly, "but Roy and John said he's alright, that he's not really injured. Apparently he just got himself too dehydrated and overworked himself and collapsed. They're all at Rampart now, and they said Chet's asking for you."

"Okay… okay, thanks. I'll go now."

Her fire department uniform was enough to get her through the hospital without too many questions and around the visiting hours. Chet was grinning from his hospital bed when she came in, still sooty and dirty, an IV dripping into his arm. He greeted her with a cheerful, "Hey, sis, why so uptight?"

"Gee, maybe because my big brother and all his friends have been out playing in a brushfire all day and all night, landing him in the hospital because he's an idiot who can't take care of himself," she stated sternly, crossing her arms.

"Alright, I suppose I'll allow it just this once."

"How kind of you," she deadpanned.

"Seriously, Charlie," he told her, his tone softening, "I'm okay. This has happened before, to me, to John, to everyone. It'll probably happen again, to be honest. Occupational hazard. This is actually one of the better things I've been in Rampart for. Things like burns and smoke inhalation are much worse… and have landed me here for much longer."

"I know. I came here and chewed you out when you nearly blew off your face a couple years ago."

"Hey, that wasn't my fault. The damn water heater went," he mumbled.

"I know… say, where are the other guys? I only saw John and Roy in the hallway, and they were headin' out when I ran into 'em."

"Still at the fire. It's a big one, and they need all hands. Cap, Marco, and Mike were still holdin' lines, last I saw. Cap and Mike were pretty excited. They don't really get on lines too much anymore, so when they do it's like gettin' back to basics, back to their roots. Marco was pretty worried about me, I remember. When I came to, he was right there with me, doin' that thing where he keeps goin' back and forth between Spanish and English like he can't figure out which to use."

"I was pretty worried myself when I heard my brother was in Rampart," Charlie replied, "Now, how do you make this chair here comfortable enough to sleep in?"

She nodded off again, folding her arms on Chet's hospital bed and laying her head on them. The sun was up when Chet woke her, saying, "Charlie, wake up. It's-… come on, sis, wake up."

According to the news anchor, several firemen were injured at the brushfire, and Chet and Charlie had no way of knowing who they were. Charlie found herself most worried for Mike, realizing it with a start. Her stomach rolled and churned, and Chet tried to give her an anchor by squeezing her hand. It didn't really comfort her, but she squeezed back, knowing he was worried, too. _He's more worried than I am. I know it. His brothers are out there while he's stuck in here, out there in danger and maybe wounded and maybe dying and what can he do about it?_ They watched the news and kept an eye on the door, waiting for news from Dixie or Brackett or Early or Morton or _anyone_.

"You two alright?" Dixie asked, poking her head in.

"Do you know anything about the wounded firemen from the brushfire?" Chet queried immediately.

"No details, I'm afraid," she answered, "Just heard there were six or seven comin' in with various injuries, some serious, one critical. No names or station numbers. As soon as I know anything, I'll make sure the information gets to you. I promise."

So they waited, anxiously, nervously, until Dixie returned about forty-five minutes later, saying, "51's coming in with some injured now. Still no names. I'll make sure I ask John and Roy after the excitement's over."

Charlie excused herself from Chet's room to go down to emergency to see what she could find out. There was a commotion in the corridor, drawing her attention, her heart pounding wildly. Her mind screamed, _Not Mike please not Mike not him please not him_. Something like fear clawed at the inside of her ribcage. She felt short of breath, light-headed, afraid. The scene in the corridor didn't help. It was organized chaos, with four of the injured firemen arriving at once. Morton, Brackett, Early, and Estrada were all yelling over one another, barking orders to various nurses. Charlie clung to the wall, doing her best to stay out of the way while seeking John and Roy. She found them coming in with a gurney bearing a fireman so covered in soot he was unrecognizable and screaming in pain. The sound of John's voice reached her ears, but the words were indistinguishable. Still, she thought she heard him call the man 'Mike' and flew into an immediate panic. An orderly and a nurse following Estrada's orders came and took the gurney from them, wheeling the screaming man into a treatment room.

Truth be told, Charlie still wasn't entirely sure of her exact feelings for Mike. He was certainly a nice guy, a good person, and a kind soul, and they were most certainly good friends, but it was a bit of a blur beyond that for her. She was sure she didn't want to have sex with him, though that was par for the course. She didn't think she'd be averse to any kissing or cuddling, though. Now, she was having a full-blown panic attack thinking Mike was wounded or worse. Tears filled her eyes before she could will them not to.

"Charlie?" Roy asked, "Char- jeez, Charlie, what's wrong? Is it Chet?"

She didn't trust herself to speak, so she simply gestured toward the treatment room.

"He's gonna be alright, Charlie. He's got some of the best doctors in the world workin' on him," Roy told her gently, "And it's not anyone from 51s. Not Cap or Marco or Mike."

"I-It's not?"

"No, his name is Sykes, from 110s. He's got a pretty bad fracture to his lower leg and some significant burns, but he's gonna be alright. We're gonna be alright…"

His voice trailed off, and she saw his gaze flicker to John, who was slumped against the wall, his eyes half-lidded, his expression dark. Charlie pulled herself together quickly so Roy could go to his partner. He coaxed the younger man into following him and Charlie up to Chet's room, away from the commotion of emergency, while Charlie quickly fetched them all some coffee.

"What happened?" Chet asked when they came in.

"Fire spread to some ranches in the area," Roy replied, "Ranchers were pretty much able to get all their barns opened up and get their horses out. There was one, though… Owner's away on business and left some hands behind to run things, but they beat it as soon as they heard the fire was comin' their way and forgot-"

"They didn't _forget_," John spat viciously, "Fuckin' cowards couldn't even admit they didn't give a shit about those horses. My aunt and uncle would die themselves before they'd let somethin' like that happen, and so would me and my cousins, and if those fuckers had any decency they would, too. But they _don't_. They _don't _have any decency. I'm not even sure they're human because I don't know who could turn tail and run when a fire was comin' for a barn full of scared horses!"

He was on his feet at the end, his eyes red and wet, two clean streaks traced through the soot on his face. Agitated, he went on, "There were twenty-odd horses in that barn, Roy! Twenty-odd horses and three hands couldn't be bothered! Wouldn't've took more than ten minutes to go through and open up all the stalls and get the horses out but no! Had to save their own skins! Nevermind them horses were-were scared outta their minds or-or that there were two mares with foals or-"

John's voice broke and choked off, his expression crumpling, and he hurried into the bathroom either to cry or throw up; Charlie couldn't be sure which. Roy kept his eyes on the bathroom door, saying, "It was really bad. Pretty much all the horses were dead in their stalls, and the few that weren't were burned so bad they should've been. Johnny just wanted to help 'em, even if it meant puttin' 'em out of their suffering, but we didn't have anything to do it with until a cop rolled up with a wildlife officer. Of course that was too late for-… there was this little, spindly-legged colt that wandered out of one of the wrecked stalls, burned and wheezing. Johnny tried… he tried so hard for him but-… I'm gonna go check on him."

Both Charlie and Chet looked away, pretending to ignore the sounds of John trying to cry quietly and Roy trying to soothe him. Chet's expression was one of sadness and helplessness. Charlie reached out and rested her hand on her brother's, whispering, "He'll be okay. Roy's takin' care of him."

"I know. I just-… I wish I could help him, too," he mumbled.

"Yeah… yeah. Me, too."

Charlie decided to make herself scarce and went to retrieve more coffee for John and Roy (Chet wasn't allowed to have any yet). The commotion had died down so she quickly filled the mugs and returned to Chet's room. John was out of the bathroom, his face marginally cleaner than when he'd gone in.

"Here, I thought you might want some more coffee. Yours went cold."

Both paramedics thanked her, gratefully taking the mugs. Charlie sat back down by Chet, who tried to make small talk to ease the tension in the small room, but it didn't really work. _I suspect they'll just need some time to decompress with each other later. They've seen a lot today._ After a short while, there was a knock on the door, and Dixie poked her head in, asking, "Mind if I send in some more visitors? They're a little dirty."

A filthy Hank Stanley stepped in, smiling wearily and saying, "Thought we'd stop in and check on you, Chet. Finally got stood down from the brushfire, so we're gonna head back to the station to clean up and finally go home. When are the docs lookin' to release you, pal?"

"Probably later tonight. They want me nice and hydrated and rested up."

"Good. Now, I don't want you doin' that again, Kelly," Cap told him firmly, "Scared us all half to death passin' out like that. I don't know how many times I have to tell you guys to stop working when you feel like that. Don't do it again, understand?"

"Understood, Cap."

"Wonderful. You want me to send someone over later to pick you up?"

"Nah, I'll just have Charlie here drop me off. I can get a shower that way, too, without making mine at home filthy. Thanks anyway, Cap."

"Chet! _Mi amigo_!"

Marco came in, grinning widely, just as filthy as Cap, asking, "How ya feeling, Chet?"

The firemen all fell into a conversation, the mood eased by the appearance of Cap and Marco. Charlie hung off to the side, not wanting to be in the way. _They don't need me. They need each other. I bet it was pretty scary out there…_ She just stood off to the side and listened._ Wait a minute… Mike's not here. He should be here. Where is he?_ She maneuvered to the window to see if he was maybe out with the engine, but the window didn't look out over the parking lot. _Shit, I can't just ask where he is. The guys already suspect far too much… but not Chet._ She managed to catch his attention and cast an obvious glance over the assembled firemen.

"Hey, I just noticed… where's Mike?" Chet asked.

"Oh, he's down checking on Sykes," Marco replied, "They went through the academy together, I think, and Mike's the one who did the rescue on him."

"Really? What happened?"

"Sykes was in making a control line when a tree fell on him. Pinned him pretty good, and it hit him at just the wrong angle and broke his leg. Mike was nearby and saw it happen. Would you believe he just lifted that tree up off Sykes and got him out? Did the rescue before I could even get to the engine for the chainsaw or the K-12. It was pretty damn impressive."

"C'mon, Marco, the tree was all rotted out. It wasn't even that heavy."

Mike was even filthier than Cap or Marco, covered from head to toe in soot and dirt. He'd never looked better to Charlie. She felt her face split into a wide grin. Without thinking, she ran to him and threw her arms around his neck, thankful the exhausted engineer managed to catch her, not caring that he smelled as bad as he looked. She heard the others laugh, and Johnny complained, "Well, none of us got greeted so enthusiastically," whereupon Roy told him to shut up. Mike tightened his arms around her, though all he said was, "Hey… you're gonna get your uniform all dirty."

"I don't care. I'll have it cleaned."

Another quick squeeze, and Mike loosened his grip signaling that he had to let go. Reluctantly, she allowed him to lower her to the floor. _I bet he's red as the engine under all that junk on his face._

"How's Sykes doin', Stoker?" Cap asked, "John said he wasn't doin' well when they brought him in."

"He seems to be okay now. They were getting him ready to set the leg and cast it when I was down there. Said he had some deep second-degree burns, too. They had him all hopped up on painkillers when I was there, so he wasn't feelin' much. Early did say he'd make a full recovery, though he'll be out for a while."

"That's some good news at least. How 'bout you, Mike? You aggravate that old back injury"

"Nope, not even a twinge," Mike replied, sounding almost proud, "Besides, like I said, the tree was rotted out and wasn't even heavy. Only hurt Sykes so bad 'cause it hit him at a funny angle."

"Mike Stoker, stop actin' like you didn't do anything," John piped up, "You saved Sykes' life, y'know."

"Yeah, but… that's what I'm supposed to do," he mumbled, "Just dunno why you guys are makin' a big fuss about it…"

"World's smallest ego," Chet commented.

Charlie gave him a swat for that, to which he indignantly replied, "Hey, I'm in the hospital here!"

"We're all in the hospital, Chet," Marco smirked.

"Aw, c'mon, you know what I mean!"

"There you are!"

Dr. Early stood in the doorway, arms crossed, looking both amused and annoyed all at once.

"Which one of us you lookin' for, doc?" John asked.

"Mike Stoker," Early replied, "He snuck out of treatment before I could examine him."

"But-but I feel fine, doc," Mike told him, "My back-"

"It's not your back I'm worried about, Stoker. I want to make sure you don't have any burns on your arms or hands and that there's nothing hiding under all that grime on your face. Come on, it won't take long."

"Couldn't I go clean up at the station and come back?" he asked hopefully.

Charlie snorted at the expression on Early's face, which clearly said 'Most certainly not because you won't come back'.

"You go get checked out, Mike," Cap told him, "We'll head back to 51s, and when you're done you can call one of us to come pick you up."

"Thanks, Cap."

Chet spoke up, "Well, Charlie's gonna hafta take me back to the station later. Why doesn't she just take Mike, too?"

"Yeah, that wouldn't be a problem for me," Charlie agreed.

"Alright, then, we'll see you next shift."

Mike was gone for about thirty minutes or so, during which time Dr. Estrada came in to check on Chet, giving him the okay to leave with orders to drink plenty of water and take it easy for another day. They found Mike waiting for them downstairs, his face somewhat cleaner than it had been and bearing the grumpiest expression Charlie had ever seen on it.

"Don't look so happy," she told him.

"Let me guess," Chet said, "You managed to hurt yourself somehow saving Sykes, and Early told you to take some time off."

Mike's scowl deepened. He held up his arms, showing them bandaged wrists and forearms.

"Gotta take the next shift off for some lousy cuts and light burns," he groused, "You believe that?"

"Well, did Early _order_ you to take the next shift off, or did he _suggest_ it?" Chet asked, "Because he's _suggested_ Johnny and I not work a shift plenty of times, and I'll tell ya exactly how many times we listened to a suggestion like that."

"Zero?"

"You're a quick learner, Stoker."

Mike's grumpiness seemed to dissipate some with that realization. Charlie rolled her eyes. _Men…_

"Alright, come on. Both of you out to the car," she ordered, "Let's get you back to the station and cleaned up. Y'know, my poor baby will never be the same after having you two in it like this…"

She took a quick nap at the station while they showered and changed. Chet suggested Mike crash at his and Charlie's place since it was closer to the station, so he followed them there, all in their respective vehicles. Chet slumped right into his bedroom and shut the door, leaving Mike and Charlie in the living room. Mike shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet; Charlie mirrored him. _I thought I lost him today… I thought he was hurt or worse but he's not… he's right here in front of me and I can't think of anything to say. Typical. _Mike broke the silence first.

"So… you were worried about me."

"Maybe a little."

"That's not what Chet told me."

"Maybe a lot."

Mike laughed quietly, absently rubbing at the bandaging on his forearms. After a moment, Charlie spoke up, "Look… I just-… I was really worried about you today… and yesterday… and the whole time you guys were at that fire. When Sykes came in, I was down there and thought Johnny said your name, and I gotta tell ya, Mike, I pretty much lost it. I was ready to go into hysterics and everything until Roy told me it wasn't you. Honestly, I was so happy to see you there in the hospital, I coulda kissed you."

"You, uh… you mean that?"

"Sure do. Every word."

"Do you still… would you still wanna kiss me?" he asked softly.

Charlie smirked, "Maybe a little… maybe a lot."

Mike finally looked at her, meeting her gaze. He smiled down at her and stepped closer, taking one of her hands in his.

"Y'know, I'm not quite sure what to do," he stated, still smiling.

Charlie replied, "That's okay. I'll show you," and stood on tiptoe, leaning in.

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><p><em><strong>To everyone who's been following this story and has left me love and concrit, thank you so much. You have no idea what it means to me.<strong>_


	10. Things Come Clear

**_I just couldn't help myself. Overall, you've all been so lovely to me with this fic. I know it's something probably way out of the box for this fandom, but I've so enjoyed writing it, and I'm glad many of you have enjoyed it._**

**_In an act of procrastination, I produced this (definitely) final chapter for this fic, and I do hope you enjoy it. I know some of you weren't entirely happy with the ending I had, so I made this one a little more... interesting, I think. _**

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><p><em>That's the way things come clear. All of a sudden. And then you realize how obvious they've been all along<em>.

-Madeleine L'Engle

"C'mon, Stoker!" Sykes taunted, "Has it really been that long since you've been on a line?"

"No longer than it's been for you," Mike called back over the roar of the fire.

Tim Sykes laughed, teeth flashing bright white against the soot on his face. Mike knew he looked no better. Brush fires always left firemen filthy and unrecognizable, looking like reverse raccoons where their goggles kept their eyes clean. Mike would have to shower about ten times to get the smell of woodsmoke and all the soot completely out of his skin and hair. He was at the fire for an entire OT shift yesterday, and he was on his own regular shift today and the day before yesterday, too. He didn't want to try and calculate how long he'd been at the fire; it was too long. Tim took a step forward, and Mike followed suit.

Mike and Tim went through the academy together once upon a time. Mike was quiet and shy, and Tim was freshly eighteen, brash and loud, with a mop of ash blond hair and warm brown eyes. He was nearly as tall as Mike but thicker and wider. Some of it was fat and just melted right off during their training, but he remained fairly stocky. Tim wasn't necessarily what could be called handsome, either. His nose was kind of flat from some fights in his youth, his teeth a little too big and a bit crooked. He was a good person, though, one of the best, and it made people gravitate toward him as Mike had. Tim was an engineer now, too, had passed the exam and got promoted about three years after Mike.

There was a pressure behind Mike, a weight helping to anchor him as he held the line. _Marco. That's Marco. I don't know how I know, but I do._ A few minutes passed before Marco tapped Mike on the shoulder and reached for the line, indicating he would take over. Mike let him. He was nearing exhaustion, the quick naps no longer cutting it. Chet went down from exhaustion and dehydration overnight, having pulled the same ridiculous OT shift Mike had, and Mike was sure to go down, too, if he kept this pace up. _Just a few more hours… few more hours, then I can get a proper rest…_

Mike's muscles were all tight and achy and stiff. He was in real amazement he was actually still able to function. He stumbled once or twice while backing Marco, but he was alright to finish his shift, would tough it out until the shift got stood down.

"Stoker! Lopez! Sykes! Harmon!"

They all turned. A captain Mike wasn't completely familiar with jogged over to tell them, "We need more control lines over here-" he pointed westerly, from which the wind was blowing, "-so I need you guys with me, and we can get started."

Mike slumped after the captain (Hernandez from 65s) and the others. _I wonder where Tim gets all that energy from, especially when he's been here about as long as I have. I could go for a nice coma right now, and he's all piss and vinegar, ready to keep goin' forever._ Mike heaved a sigh and kept trudging. Control lines were important. They needed to be made. They were a line of defense, a wall to stop the flames from advancing as they wanted.

They walked in pairs behind Hernandez, Mike with Marco and Tim with Harmon, one of his guys from 99s. Other firemen were working control lines nearby. Mike stifled a yawn and got to work, Marco right beside him. Marco had been rather subdued since Chet went down overnight. They were pretty good friends, Marco and Chet, and Marco had been visibly upset when Chet collapsed. _We were all pretty upset when Chet collapsed. It's never good when someone goes down like that._ One minute Chet was holding a line, and the next he was on the ground, a crumpled heap of turnout gear. Everyone immediately descended on him, terrified that he may have had heat stroke, that he might start having a seizure. Thankfully, it was heat exhaustion, not heat stroke, but his temperature was high enough that John and Roy wanted to take him to Rampart to be looked after. Mike had been working with Cap when John and Chet left in the ambulance, Roy following in the squad. From what Mike can remember, that was at about half-past one in the morning.

Mike trudged along with Marco, Tim Sykes and Harmon not far ahead. He stifled another yawn. Up ahead, by Tim and Harmon, a sharp cracking sound rent the air, cutting through the constant roar of the fire. Tim gave a yell, gave Harmon a hard shove, as a nearby tree came down, one that looked old and rotted out. The engineer slipped, losing his footing, and Mike watched in horror as the tree came crashing down on top of him. For a split second, Mike was sure he'd just watched his friend die. A scream rose up from the tree: hair-raising, pained, horrid. Mike was running to his friend before he even realized it. He vaguely heard Marco shouting behind him, maybe at him, maybe into an H/T.

It didn't look good for Tim. The tree must've come down at just the wrong angle and, despite it not weighing as much as it appeared, snapped the bones of Tim's lower leg in two. He was screaming his head off, still trapped under the trunk. Mike turned to call for Marco, but the lineman was already digging through the brush truck, presumably seeking a chainsaw or K-12. _There's no time for that._ Mike quickly sized up the tree: old, charred, smoldering, rotted, not as heavy as it looked. He stepped up, his feet shoulder-width apart, and squatted by the tree, sliding his arms underneath so the trunk rested in the crooks of his arms. _A little heavier than I thought… but not much… _His stomach muscles tightened up as he pulled the weight close to his body, woodsmoke filling his nose and throat. Tim screamed again, and that was it. Mike lifted, the muscles of his legs sending him surging upward, a yell escaping his lungs as he heaved the dead tree away.

Mike knelt beside his friend, pressing their gloved hands together. Tim squeezed back with a powerful grip.

"What happened, Mike? Are you hurt anywhere?" John asked, rushing over with Roy.

"Me? No, i-it's my friend here, Tim Sykes," Mike told them hurriedly, "We were making control lines and that tree came down. His leg's broke pretty bad."

"Don't worry, Mike, we're gonna take good care of him," Roy said, then turned to Tim, "Sykes? Sykes, can you hear me? I'm Roy DeSoto from 51s. Are you hurt anywhere besides your leg?"

John and Roy managed to work around Mike, who was loathe to leave his friend's side or let go of his hand. Marco hung back, the chainsaw hanging limply from his hand. Mike watched in quiet amazement at how efficiently John and Roy worked, was always amazed at the way they seemed to anticipate what the other needed. Tim was splinted, set up with an IV, and bundled up in a Stokes faster than Mike could have imagined, and together they carried him out to a waiting ambulance. Mike wanted to go with them to the hospital, but Cap held him back, saying, "We're almost done here, Mike. We'll finish up, and then we'll head over to Rampart, okay?"

Another hour passed before Cap, Mike, and Marco were stood down, then another half-hour before they could put the engine all back together properly. Big Red was going to need a thorough cleaning once this brush fire was over… outside and in. Cap and Marco were both filthy, and Mike was sure he looked no better. A quick look down showed his turnouts were completely covered in black soot from the charred tree trunk.

"Hey, Stoker?"

"Yeah, Cap?"

"Did you really lift that tree off Sykes singlehanded?" Cap asked curiously.

"Uh… I guess I did, yeah."

"How? That thing looked like it weighed a ton."

Mike shrugged, "It was all rotted out. Didn't weigh all that much, actually."

"Marco said you looked like Superman or somethin'. Just got down and heaved it right up."

"Really, Marco?" Mike called to the back of the cab, "Superman?"

"What! That's what it looked like!" he retorted, "I didn't even have time to get back with a saw!"

Mike's face grew hot under the grime coating it. _Don't know why they're makin' such a fuss. I would've done the same for them, and they'd do it for me._

"Alright, we're gonna go up to see Chet," Cap said at Rampart, "You go check on Sykes. I'm sure John and Roy wanna hear how he's doin', too."

"Sure thing, Cap. I'll see ya in a few…"

He got some odd looks as he traipsed through the hospital in his filthy turnouts and blackened face, mostly from the patients, the staff all too used to seeing dirty firemen pacing the halls. Tim was still in the treatment room with Dr. Early. Mike poked his head in and tentatively rapped on the door. Early turned, and it seemed to take him a moment to recognize Mike. They hadn't met often, but Mike liked Early. He was always very friendly and polite to Mike, and Roy said he was the same with all his patients, especially children. Roy always said the man was a great doctor, and if Roy thought him a good person, he must be pretty good.

"Mike Stoker, isn't it?" the doctor asked, leaving some x-rays to approach him, "You're the engineer that works with Gage and DeSoto, right?"

"Yessir, that's me, Dr. Early."

"Is everything alright? Are you injured?"

"No, I'm fine. I just wanted to check on my buddy here."

"Yes, DeSoto told me you were the one who did the rescue on Mr. Sykes," Early told him, smirking slightly, "He said it was pretty impressive-looking, you lifting that tree all by yourself."

"It wasn't that impressive," Mike mumbled.

"Whatever you say, Stoker. Anyway, I'm sure Sykes would appreciate the company. I've been looking at the x-rays here, and we're waiting on the orthopedist to get here so he can set the leg and put a cast on it. The painkillers have really set in, so he might be a little funny, but he'll know you're there."

"Is he gonna be alright, doc?"

"There's no reason he won't make a full recovery within a few months."

"Good. Thanks, doc."

Tim really was out of it, so Mike only spoke with him for a few minutes before the orthopedic team arrived. Mike didn't think he should stay for them setting the fracture, or he'd need treatment himself from passing out. He slipped past Early and made his way up to Chet's room, apologizing to the nurse who got on the elevator with him. He heard Marco's voice inside the room, "…saw it happen. Would you believe he just lifted that tree up off Sykes and got him out? Did the rescue before I could even get to the engine for the chainsaw or the K-12. It was pretty damn impressive."

Mike stepped into the room, saying matter-of-factly, "C'mon, Marco, the tree was all rotted out. It wasn't even that heavy."

Five faces covered in varying levels of dirt smiled at him… as did a clean face he hadn't expected to see. Charlie grinned widely at him, her dark curls loose around her face, still wearing her uniform from dispatch. It was a good thing he was paying attention, because she came at him at a run. She threw her arms around his neck, and he was glad he had enough strength left to catch her and keep upright, his own arms around her waist. He heard the others laugh.

"Well, none of us got greeted so enthusiastically," John complained.

"Shut up, Junior."

Mike tightened his arms slightly. There was so much he could say to Charlie, but all he could voice was, "Hey… you're gonna get your uniform all dirty."

"I don't care," she murmured, "I'll have it cleaned."

He gave her another quick squeeze, and then he had to loosen his grip. He could feel himself shaking finely, exhaustion finally coming back to him. Once he set Charlie back on her feet, Cap asked, "How's Sykes doin', Stoker? John said he wasn't doin' well when they brought him in."

Mike repeated what Early told him, and Cap and the others nodded. Cap spoke up again, "That's some good news at least. How 'bout you, Mike? You aggravate that old back injury?"

He drew himself up a bit, standing a little straighter and taller, feeling a proud smile on his face. He replied, "Nope, not even a twinge. Besides, like I said, the tree was rotted out and wasn't even heavy. Only hurt Sykes so bad 'cause it hit him at a funny angle."

Charlie had returned to her brother's side, though she was still grinning at Mike.

"Mike Stoker, stop actin' like you didn't do anything," John piped up, "You saved Sykes' life, y'know."

"Yeah, but… that's what I'm supposed to do," he mumbled, "Just dunno why you guys are makin' a big fuss about it…"

"World's smallest ego," Chet commented, making John and Marco snort.

Charlie, though she was smirking herself, gave her brother a solid swat in the arm, to which he indignantly replied, "Hey, I'm in the hospital here!"

"We're all in the hospital, Chet," Marco smirked.

"Aw, c'mon, you know what I mean!"

Charlie snickered, earning a glare from Chet while the others laughed.

"There you are!"

Dr. Early stood in the doorway, arms crossed, looking both amused and annoyed all at once.

"Which one of us you lookin' for, doc?" John asked, still smirking.

"Mike Stoker," Early replied, "He snuck out of treatment before I could examine him."

_I was hoping to avoid a check-up. It's why I snuck away, doc._

"But-but I feel fine, doc," Mike told him, "My back-"

"It's not your back I'm worried about, Stoker. I want to make sure you don't have any burns on your arms or hands and that there's nothing hiding under all that grime on your face. Come on, it won't take long."

"Couldn't I go clean up at the station and come back?" he asked hopefully.

Charlie snorted somewhere behind him. Dr. Early didn't need words to say 'Most certainly not.' Mike heaved a sigh. He made quick arrangements for Charlie to drive him back to the station with Chet and followed Early back down to treatment. A nurse gave his face a good scrubbing but clucked her tongue after a few minutes, saying, "I guess that's as good as it'll be," and gave up. Early's quick examination proclaimed Mike's face to be injury-free.

"Alright, now, get out of that coat," he told Mike, "I need to check your arms…"

Mike winced slightly as he pulled off his turnout, the muscles of his arms sore and tight. His forearms were bright pink with some cuts and scratches, particularly around his wrists.

"Hmm… Stoker, do you remember how you lifted the tree?"

Mike told him, and Early responded, "The sleeves of your coat must've gotten pushed up when you slid your arms under the trunk. Doesn't look too serious, but I'd like to put a clean bandage over everything just to be sure nothing gets infected. It might be a good idea for you to take your next shift off. These don't look too terribly painful, but you might want a rest. I'll write up a note for you if you decide to take off."

Early worked fairly quickly, which was good because Mike was now decidedly grumpy. He didn't want to take a shift off. The grey-haired doctor wore a small smile as he ushered Mike out into the waiting room and went to check on another patient. Mike didn't wait long for Charlie and Chet to come down. He must've still looked grumpy because Charlie greeted him with a sarcastic, "Don't look so happy."

"Let me guess," Chet spoke up, "You managed to hurt yourself somehow saving Sykes, and Early told you to take some time off."

Mike felt himself scowl and held up his bandaged forearms and wrists.

"Gotta take the next shift off for some lousy cuts and light burns. You believe that?"

He was definitely _not_ pouting, no matter what Chet's smirk told him. Chet asked, "Well, did Early _order_ you to take the next shift off, or did he _suggest_ it? Because he's _suggested_ Johnny and I not work a shift plenty of times, and I'll tell ya exactly how many times we listened to a suggestion like that."

"Zero?"

"You're a quick learner, Stoker."

Mike gave it a quick thought. Early really hadn't _explicitly_ told him to take off. Some of his grumpiness went away.

"Alright, come on. Both of you out to the car," she ordered, rolling her eyes, "Let's get you back to the station and cleaned up. Y'know, my poor baby will never be the same after having you two in it like this…"

Charlie sat on the couch in the rec room, Boot ambling over to nap with her. Mike and Chet slumped into the locker room for their towels and to take off their filthy turnouts. The shower was wonderful. Mike almost forgot he hadn't had one in about three days, three hot and exhausting days. He let out a groan as the hot water pounded on his tired and tight muscles; Chet did the same in the adjacent stall. Mike took the time to scrub carefully, wanting to remove three days worth of grime and sweat, watching the water swirling down the drain change from a deep, ashy grey to clear. _Tomorrow we'll probably be there again, but it's nice to be clean for now._ At least he'd thought to wrap his bandages with some plastic cling wrap so they wouldn't get wet.

He and Chet finished their showers at about the same time and returned to the locker room together to change into their civvies. Mike had just pulled on his jeans when Chet came over and sat by him, arms in the sleeves of his baja hoodie but not quite wearing it yet. His thick hair was still wet and sticking up in funny places; it made Mike smile. Chet straddled the bench, stretching out his legs.

"You gonna say somethin', Chet, or are ya just gonna sit there and watch me get dressed?" Mike asked, pulling on a t-shirt and doing up the button on his jeans.

Chet made a face, saying, "Sorry, Mike, I'm not the Kelly who thinks you're oh-so-dreamy."

"Thank God for that."

"I feel like I oughta be offended."

Mike said nothing and shrugged on a button-up shirt. Chet finally pulled his hoodie on all the way.

"Charlie was real worried about you," Chet said after a moment, "Think she thought you were Sykes when he was brought in, and then when everyone came in to see me and you weren't with 'em… boy, she was all fidgety. Looked all around the room, went and looked out the window… and don't get me started on that hug. I've never seen her like that. Last time she even gave me a hug like that was when I came home from 'Nam. She lit up like a Christmas tree when you came in, Mike."

"Yeah… yeah, she did, didn't she…"

Mike had been doing a lot of thinking lately, just as Charlie had suggested a few months before. He could well recall the feeling of near euphoria he experienced when he realized there was someone else like him out there, someone else who didn't feel like sex was all that important. Hearing other people talk about their sexual experiences never really made him uncomfortable, but it never made him want to see what all the fuss was about, either. It always seemed so messy and complicated, and the thought of participating in such activities made him nervous and embarrassed, not for reasons of moral righteousness but just because he didn't think it would be enjoyable personally. Stories of sexual escapades were unavoidable working in a fire station, and Mike was alright listening to whatever the others (mostly John and Chet) had to say concerning nocturnal activities. It was only when he tried to imagine himself doing the sorts of things they talked about that he got uncomfortable. Knowing for certain that someone he knew, someone he could be close to, was the same way was the greatest feeling he'd had in a while.

Being the way he was, Mike was sure he'd never do supposedly normal things like go out on dates or kiss or get married. No one would want to get so involved with someone who wouldn't have sex with them. Part of him really wanted something like that, though. He was always a little envious of the couples he knew, of the way they talked about being married and being in love, so perhaps he had initially gone a little overboard when he first thought he could have those things with Charlie. The more he sat and thought about it, thought about Charlie, he realized he hadn't gone quite overboard, _per se_, just went about it too fast. Chet nudged him in the calf with his foot, bringing him out of his reverie, whining, "Hurry up and finish gettin' dressed, Mike. I'm tired. I wanna go home and go to bed."

"Alright, Chet, gimme a minute. Don't know why you gotta wait for me…"

Charlie was napping on the couch with Boot. Chet gave her shoe a gentle kick, enough to wake her.

"Come on, Charlie, let's go home. I'm beat. Oh, Mike, you're more than welcome to crash at our place if you want. It's closer than yours, and you gotta be tireder than both of us."

They trooped over to the apartment building in their own vehicles. Chet bid both Charlie and Mike goodnight (though it wasn't quite four in the afternoon) and slumped off into his bedroom, leaving them standing awkwardly in the living room. Mike shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet, Charlie mirroring him. Her face was pink, the color blooming in her cheeks. Neither one spoke for a long moment… until Mike finally broke the silence.

"So… you were worried about me."

"Maybe a little," she shrugged.

"That's not what Chet told me."

"Maybe a lot."

Mike laughed quietly, absently rubbing at his bandaged forearms. _That's just like Charlie._ She continued after a considerable pause, "Look… I just-… I was really worried about you today… and yesterday… and the whole time you guys were at that fire. When Sykes came in, I was down there and thought Johnny said your name, and I gotta tell ya, Mike, I pretty much lost it. I was ready to go into hysterics and everything until Roy told me it wasn't you. Honestly, I was so happy to see you there in the hospital, I coulda kissed you."

His heart gave an excited flip.

"You, uh… you mean that?"

"Sure do. Every word."

"Do you still… would you still wanna kiss me?" he asked softly.

"Maybe a little… maybe a lot."

Mike finally pulled his gaze up from the carpet to meet Charlie's. A smile crept onto his face, and he stepped in closer, taking one of her hands in his. It was so small and dainty. He smiled more.

"Y'know, I'm not quite sure what to do," he told her, smirking slightly.

Charlie smiled up at him, a soft genuine smile. She replied, "That's okay. I'll show you," and stood on tiptoe, leaning in.

Mike had never really believed people when they spoke of a special spark or a warm feeling they felt when kissing someone they loved. He never believed in a tingle or a jolt or anything like it. He was sure wrong. Warmth blossomed in the pit of his stomach and in his chest when her lips touched his, seeped out into his limbs, made him almost dizzy. Her lips were warm and a little chapped. She smelled vaguely of hospital. Mike pulled in a sharp breath through his nose when she adjusted her hand, twining their fingers. His other hand rose to cup her cheek, thumb stroking along her cheekbone. He felt her lips curve into a smile, and it made him smile in turn. Her lips moved against his, eliciting another sharp intake of breath from Mike.

They must have looked a sight there in the living room, Charlie on tiptoe and practically craning her neck, Mike awkwardly hunched over to reach her nonetheless. That hardly mattered to either of them, however. All that mattered in that moment was the feeling of her lips on his, moving against his. He was thankful she didn't try to press with her tongue because he wasn't sure he was quite ready for that just yet. (He always found it odd that people showed affection by shoving their tongue into someone else's mouth.) She just slid her lips over his, pressing, nipping, sucking. He made a soft noise when she caught his lower lip and sucked on it gently; she did the same when he returned the favor.

It might have been hours that they stood there and kissed. It might have been seconds or decades or eons or minutes. It wasn't really long enough. Charlie pulled away with a quiet sigh of contentment. Mike followed, planting a gentle kiss on her lips before pressing his forehead to hers. He could see all the faint freckles dotting her nose and cheeks, could see the mix of blue and grey in her eyes. From behind Charlie, Mike heard Chet call, "Get a room!" from behind the door.

Mike and Charlie burst into laughter, foreheads still pressed together.

"Well, Mike, I think my dear brother has a pretty good idea. I don't know about you, but I'm beat."

"I've been at that brushfire for about three days straight. I'm exhausted," he replied.

"Perfect, then let's get a room. Mine happens to be right here."

"Hmm. Convenient."

Another shout from behind Chet's door: "And no hanky-panky!"

"Shut up and go to sleep, Chet, ya creep!" Charlie called back.

There was some quiet grumbling but no more comments. Mike chuckled quietly and allowed Charlie to lead him into her room. They were asleep in minutes, sprawled awkwardly across the bed.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thank you again to everyone who has enjoyed and commented on this fic. I greatly appreciate all the positive feedback I've gotten. Knowing people enjoy what I write makes happier than just about anything :)<strong>_


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